Obscure Hints
by Surreptitious Chi X
Summary: AU post Starless Night. Something grew between Cattibrie and Entreri when they were in the Underdark saving Drizzt together. Neither of them knows their feelings, but they have a chance to find out before Artemis departs for Calimport.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Excerpts from R.A. Salvatore's Starless Night:

_The going was smooth, with no pursuit evident for the rest of that day and long into the night. Finally the group had no choice but to stop and rest, but it was a fitful and nervous time indeed. _

_So it went for three days of running, putting the miles far behind them. Drizzt kept the lead, and kept the companions far from Blingdenstone, fearful of involving the svirfnebli in any of this incredible and dangerous web. _

(313)

_"And so you have defeated Matron Baenre's plans," Jarlaxle went on grandly, sweeping into another bow. "And you, assassin, have earned your freedom. But look ever over your shoulders, daring friends, for the memories of dark elves are long and the methods of dark elves are devious."_

_There came an explosion, a blast of orange smoke, and when it cleared, Jarlaxle was gone. _

_"And good riddance to ye," Catti-brie muttered._

_"As I will say to you when we part company on the surface," Entreri promised grimly. _

_"Only because Catti-brie gave you her word," Drizzt replied, his tone equally grave. He and Entreri locked uncompromising stares, looks of pure hatred, and Catti-brie, standing between them, felt uncomfortable indeed._

_With the immediate threat of Menzoberranzan apparently behind them, it seemed as though old enemies had become enemies again._

(316-317)

_The assassin and the ranger parted company on the same ledge where they had once battled, under the same starry sky they had seen the night of their duel. _

_Entreri walked off along the ledge, pausing a short distance away to turn and regard his hated rival. _

_"Long, too, is my own memory," he remarked, referring to Jarlaxle's parting words. "And are my methods less devious than those of the drow?"_

_Drizzt did not bother to respond. _

_"Suren I'm cursing me own words," Catti-brie whispered to Drizzt. "I'd be liking nothing better than to put an arrow through that one's back!"_

(318)

* * *

Entreri wasn't very friendly to her over the next few days, but she couldn't blame him. Drizzt was acting appallingly, staring at the assassin every other minute and launching thinly veiled insults. Catti-brie felt uncomfortable at being caught between the two rivals. For starters, she hadn't known she would be this uncomfortable once Drizzt was rescued. It made her realize that she had gotten closer to Entreri somehow over the course of their dangerous adventure through Menzoberranzan. _And no wonder!_ She said to herself. _We saved each other's lives several times over!_ To a normal person, and in ordinary circumstances, that would've said a lot to her about bonds of friendship. But because it was Artemis Entreri, and because of how Drizzt, her best friend in the entire world, clearly felt about the man, Catti-brie found herself doubting her own feelings.

_He's changed_, the auburn haired woman protested silently every time she gave Drizzt a pleading look to stop his digging at the reticent assassin. _Either that, or he wasn't the man I thought he was. He saved my life, even when he didn't have to anymore. He tried to make me cross the rope because he didn't want me to die. That ain't so cold hearted to me thinkin'._

She endured it unhappily until they were on the Surface, and on their way home. _Everyone's home but Entreri's_, Catti thought suddenly, and glanced over at the Calishite. She wondered at that instant where his home really was, or if because he was an assassin, he didn't really have one. Not the kind of home she had. The one that she missed so fiercely that her chest ached.

Entreri gave her a returning stare, looking at her strangely. She averted her eyes, and narrowly kept herself from trying to explain her thoughts to the man. She knew that she must appear to be a double-dealing hypocrite, keeping so silent while Drizzt insulted him all day, only to try to talk to him once Drizzt left the area to scout or hunt. She couldn't help it! Drizzt had just been through an awful ordeal, and she couldn't begin to imagine. It would crush him to have her start openly haranguing him for his behavior against his hated rival. But it was so insincere!

It pained her that Drizzt refused to acknowledge that Entreri had honestly rescued him, and repaid the assassin's rare show of compassion with bitterness and anger. _No wonder he doesn't show compassion to anyone,_ Catti-brie wanted to shout in Drizzt's face. _When he does, all he gets is a slap in the face! Yer being intolerable, Drizzt Do'Urden!_ _Ye kept preaching that ye wanted him to change, and when he did, ye made hell for 'im! What's the matter with you? _

When she and Entreri were alone again, sitting in the small clearing of their meager camp while Drizzt insisted on hunting for their afternoon meal, the man looked at her with evident curiosity, but then averted his eyes and refused to say anything. They sat about five feet away from each other. The Calishite with his legs stretched out comfortably before him, hands palm-down on the ground, and the auburn-haired woman with her knees drawn up close to her body, hands clasped in front of them.

"Why do ye do it?" Catti-brie asked abruptly.

Entreri flicked a glance at her as if surprised that she had spoken to him still, even after Drizzt had walked in on one of their previous conversations and delivered a stinging remark about what he would do to the assassin if Artemis at any time decided to taint the woman with his evil (whatever that meant in the drow ranger's mind). "Do what?"

"Kill people," she said. She stared at him hard. "Being an assassin."

The man shrugged. "It is a job."

"But why?"

"It is _my_ job." He added the pronoun as if she could be in some doubt about that.

Catti-brie let out all of her confusion and frustration over his contradictory nature in one outburst. "But don't ye know it's wrong?" she cried.

Artemis looked at her calmly with no hint of malice or displeasure. "Yes."

She sat back hard, not expecting this answer at all. "But – but –" she spluttered.

"But why?" Artemis Entreri asked, mere fractions of an amused smile on his face, framing her question politely.

"Yes!" the auburn-haired woman said, gaping at him unabashedly, more confused than she had been before she started asking him for answers.

"That is how I make my money," Artemis Entreri explained. "It doesn't matter who it is, as long as someone always wants another person killed." He smiled, a quite reasonable and quite out of place smile. "And they do. Believe me, there are at least ten people right now who want you dead that you have never dreamed of seeing in the past fifteen years."

She goggled at him.

The assassin shrugged. "That is how life is. The people you don't remember are usually the ones who ends up leering victoriously over your dead body."

"That's horrible," Catti-brie said.

He shrugged. "But back to why I am an assassin."

She nodded mutely.

Entreri seemed to be enjoying his captivated audience, for he grinned at her and said pleasantly, "The other reason, of course, is that I didn't have a choice. The guild that recruited me would have killed me if I hadn't agreed to become their assassin, and death is hardly a palatable option to a fourteen-year-old." He spoke of it as if it were some long ago, hazy memory of childhood. Simpler days. Or as if his younger self amused him. "Little could I know, of course, that death is actually preferable than killing tens of people every year for no better reason than some fat, greedy bastard – or some not so fat, greedy bastard – offered me enough gold and jewels to feed the poor of Calimport for a month."

She just stared at him.

"Oh, you see, there are only two kinds of clients," he assured her, as if he thought she couldn't believe the lack of diversity. "Fat greedy bastards, and not so fat greedy bastards. Everyone else who seems different is actually masking their membership to one of those two categories."

"If you hate them so much…" the auburn-haired woman said timidly.

Artemis shrugged. "Oh, but I do. Which is why it's easy to turn around and kill them the moment someone demands it of me."

She looked openly horrified again. The expression sort of became stuck to her face.

"More of your innocence gone, I suppose," the assassin offered, looking at her face intently. Not that he really felt sorry, but he felt mild regret, anyway, especially as innocence, while painful, had its own peculiar form of bliss before one realized everything was a lie.

Then she slowly turned angry, an anger that he had seen directed against the drow of Menzoberranzan only a short while ago. "If ye don't like it, Entreri, why don't ye quit?" she demanded bluntly. Catti-brie stuck out her chin as if she were daring him to come up with an honest answer to that.

Entreri sighed. He felt as though he had had variations of this same conversation with her, and others like her, too many times before. "Because, my dear temporary traveling companion, I can't." He stared at her with a steady gaze. "That is yet another thing I cannot do." In a strange way, he was slowly awakening to the fact that he was fond of her.

Catti-brie's expression faltered. Uncertainty entered into her eyes, and her lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly. She didn't want to accept what he had just said as the truth. "But…that makes ye sound like nothing but a _slave_."

"I am," Artemis said, shrugging. "I am as close to a slave as the guilds of Calimport can get. If I refused to kill for them, I would be killed." He shook his head slightly. "You can have no doubt about that. And if I left for good, they would bring me back."

She stared at him, sick at the words he was so calmly using to explain to her.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You do remember Regis? I assume that he is still your friend, in spite of his… actions."

Catti-brie put together his reference almost in spite of herself. "They would send someone after you like they sent ye after me friend."

Enteeri nodded. Then he got up and brushed the front of his pants off with a casual air bordering on callousness, smiling as if to prove to her that he had his fate figured out and simply didn't care. "So you see it is for the best that I return to Calimport, and never bother you nor your ranger friend of questionable sanity ever again."

They parted ways when they came near to Mithral Hall.

At first, those words he'd spoken in that calm, measured voice of his had horrified Catti-brie. 'Long, too, is my own memory. And are my methods less devious than those of the drow?' She thought he was speaking in threats, that he was saying that he might just come back after all and kill them in their sleep for whatever real or perceived slights they had dealt him.

But, as time went on, the words gnawed at her, and they began to take on a different meaning. She wondered with a pang if he had simply meant to compare himself to the drow, and in that case, due to his obvious distaste for them, she wondered if he might have been obscurely hinting at guilt: he might have been trying to say that he regretted his similarity to the dark elves of Menzoberranzan. The auburn-haired woman's heart leapt in her chest, almost stopping the same way it always did when she and her friends got caught in a dangerous situation that seemed impossible to win. If Artemis Entreri did mean to express a moment of self-doubt and penitence, then maybe the things she'd said to him had made some sort of difference. Maybe she had said things that he would remember, and be compelled by.


	2. Chapter 1: A deal

**Chapter 1**

A Deal

---------------------

Excerpt from R. A. Salvatore's Starless Night:

_Drizzt came back into his cell to see Catti-brie still lying on the stone floor, holding the spider mask and gasping heavily as she tried to steady her breathing. Behind her, Entreri hung awkwardly by one arm, twisted and stuck to the gooey wall. _

_"This'll get him down," Catti-brie explained, tossing the mask to Drizzt._

_Drizzt caught the mask but made no move, having much more on his mind than freeing the assassin. _

_"Regis telled me," Catti-brie explained, though that point seemed obvious enough. "I made him tell me."_

_"You came alone?"_

_Catti-brie shook her head, and for a moment Drizzt nearly swooned, thinking that another of his friends might be in peril, or might be dead. But Catti-brie motioned to Guenhwyvar, and the ranger breathed a sigh of relief._

_"You are a fool," Drizzt said, his words wrought of sheer incredulity and frustration. He scowled fiercely at Catti-brie, wanting her to know that he was not pleased. _

"_No more than yerself," the young woman answered with a wistful smile, a smile that stole the scowl from Drizzt's face. The dark elf couldn't deny his joy at seeing Catti-brie again, even in this dangerous circumstance. _

"_Are ye wanting to talk about it now?" Catti-brie asked, smiling still. "Or are ye wanting to wait until we're back at Mithril Hall?"_

_Drizzt had no answer, just shook his head and ran a hand through his thick mane. He looked to the spider mask then, and to Entreri, and his scowl returned._

"_We've a deal," Catti-brie quickly put in. "He got me to ye, and said he'd get us both out, and we're to guide him back to the surface." _

"_And once there?" Drizzt had to ask._

"_Let him go his way, and we'll go our own," Catti-brie answered firmly, as though she needed to hear the strength of her own voice for her sake of her own resolve. _

_Again Drizzt looked doubtfully from the mask to the assassin. The prospects of setting Artemis Entreri free on the surface did not sit well in the noble ranger's gut. How many would suffer for Drizzt's actions now? How many would again be terrorized by the darkness that was Artemis Entreri? _

"_I gived me word," Catti-brie offered in the face of her friend's obvious doubts._

(276-277)

* * *

Artemis Entreri sat at the counter of a deserted tavern, two pieces of gold in front of him and a mug of mead upraised in his dominant hand. "Here's to me." He grinned and knocked back a healthy sip, leaning back in his seat on the barstool. He ordinarily had a precept never to drink, but he didn't care about that now, and not here, of all places. What could possibly harm him now? He had escaped the Underdark. He was invincible.

That sobered him. Invincible. He set the mug down and turned away, looking out of the darkened windows of the establishment into the night, brooding. He'd tried to avoid it, but now he had to face it in himself: the burst of desperation-fueled meaning that had pumped through his every waking moment when he was escaping Menzoberranzan was gone now. All that was left was an emptiness. It was true that he had returned to the outside world, but no one had missed him. It was as if he may as well have died there, in the Baenre compound. He almost wished that Catti-brie had shown some sense and thrown him over a precipice while she'd had the chance. It almost worked once, after all. If he thought about it, he could still feel ghost pains from his long drop after having his cloak slit by Regis. It had only been Jarlaxle that saved him, then, and Jarlaxle wasn't around now.

That was when the idea came to him. If life was so meaningless, why should he not return to the site of his defeat and finish the job they started? It would be ironically simple – the one simple thing in a life of endless difficulties. He could walk off the edge of the cliff where he and Drizzt Do'Urden had battled and fall to his death – perhaps as fate had intended all along. After all, Jarlaxle was an agent of chaos, and probably had thwarted fate on numerous occasions. Why should it be any different to him? Backhanded Drow kindness was all that kept him alive after his defeat. Survival was the ultimate unfair fairness. _In a perfect world_, Artemis Entreri thought, _decisions would be final: the weak die, the strong live, and the world keeps turning._ But, as it was, there were flaws in the law of survival just like there were flaws everywhere else. And it seemed up to him to fix them, because no one else would.

He finished his mead and left, pausing only to give a parting nod to the silent figure of a barmaid washing a table in the corner of the room.

He gritted his teeth and shivered; his tattered gray cloak was too thin for the weather, and he knew it. He knew the night was dangerous, not only because several well-meaning people had told him so when they found him wandering throughout the small town at sunset, but because he had cut down a band of four thieves last week behind a small wooden warehouse he came to understand contained supplies for the local general store. He'd left the bodies where they'd fallen, wiped his sword clean, and simply walked back to the tavern. The owners of the general store found out it was him, and were grateful, but he cared nothing for the bag of silver they offered in reward. He hadn't been able to refuse them, and hadn't bothered to argue, not wanting a fight, but after staring at the nondescript burlap bag all day and nursing a fiery glass of orange liquor from Turmish, he'd thought of disposing it. At the end, he'd asked the barkeep where a charity for the poor and infirm lay. Having been told that there was no such place, only a woman who supported her elderly father and a family of eight children, he quietly stalked to her doorstep and dumped it there. Then he'd retreated to a comfortable spot partially behind a water barrel in an alley across the street and watched until someone from the residence opened the door and found it.

He didn't know why he had done these things. Some other person would have called it a change of heart. He knew the truth; he was simply bored. These townspeople had simple lives, and in the three weeks that he had stayed in their village, he mastered the weaving of their lives by observation and now could manipulate them as he wished. He wanted to see what would happen; if he really could affect something here in the World Above, as Drow called it. Even after three weeks, Menzoberranzan and its Drow people were still heavily on his mind. For some reason, as empty as he was, he was driven by simple curiosity –one of the few emotions he had left in him, it seemed – to find out whether this woman's family could make good use of the money, whether the owners of the general store would find out what he'd done, and whether they would come around again, seeking him, or if they would leave him be.

This idea to throw himself off a cliff and see what happened was a similar act of curiosity, and one that drove him now to leave town and head north, away from the cluster of small buildings all leaking smoke from their chimneys. He was awake, the night once being his preferred time of operation, and though it was no longer, he still could not help but doze during the day and become alert when the sun set. His faded pack was his only companion.

Wind blew, stinging his face, and while once he would have cared, now it was only a sensory input as to his surroundings, a silent running commentary_. It is cold, yes, I know, the snow is thick, I know that too_. Then Artemis Entreri paused, and thought, _Will the town even miss me?_

He imagined his impact on the small village over the past three weeks. His endless drinking in the tavern and the way it never took the edge off his thoughts. The time he spent in the second week of his stay washing dishes in the tavern's shabby but well kept-up kitchen because he hadn't anything better to do, and he could coax a conversation out of one of the bar maids. His nighttime strolls, and the one time that he found four other people out at the same time, and their subsequent deaths when he recognized them as thieves. The woman's family and the bag of silver pieces.

He concluded, _No, they won't even remember me._ He had been a faceless entity; a stranger not only to them, but to himself during that time.

The assassin trudged through the night, kept moving only by the idea that the end would soon be in sight.

-----------------------

Catti-brie stood and looked at the stars, fiercely burning in the cold night. She didn't bring her cloak, and she was freezing, but she needed the cold right now. It made her think more clearly, and it made her awake, even at this late hour, sometime after midnight, but sometime before dawn.

When she slept, she had weird dreams. Dreams of the dark, shooting down enemies that never stopped coming, of ropes she had to cross, Guenhwyvar dying, Drizzt appearing to talk to her and then disappearing again, and the two rogues, as she thought of them, Jarlaxle and Entreri, were strange supporting characters. Jarlaxle suddenly being in front of her with that wide, discomfiting grin, or sometimes only of that purple hat with the red plume, appearing in some corner of her dream-places, and dreams of being kidnapped by Entreri, only to suddenly remember partway through the dream in a disorienting twist that she had gone with him of her own accord. Sometimes she and Entreri re-enacted saving Drizzt, over and over again.

One dream she couldn't forget was when she dreamt she was back home, came into her room, and Jarlaxle's hat was lying on a chair. She looked around, feeling as though she should be frightened, and yet, she never was. She'd had that dream three times. Once, she had turned around, and Jarlaxle had been there, walking into her room from a second door that in real life, wasn't there. He'd taken her hand, bowed to her, and kissed it, approaching her with flattery. She couldn't remember the dream-words. What people said to her in dreams often faded from memory as soon as she woke up.

The auburn-haired woman wrapped her arms around herself and stared defiantly into the night. She was standing on the ledge where she and Drizzt had parted ways with Artemis Entreri. She'd come back to this place because she was drawn to the memory of that man, the assassin. Not only did she worriedly gnaw her memories of his last words before leaving, but his appearance. Somehow, if she stood out here, she could remember what he looked like more clearly – almost as if she could see him again.

_I'm not suren why I would want to_, she thought stubbornly, scowling. Now that she was back home, and Drizzt was back, making their group whole again – she felt a pang in her chest that she considered being without Wulfgar 'whole' now – she remembered every reason why she was within every one of her rights to cut down the assassin. To _let _Drizzt hate him. She shook her head. _How did me head get so clouded up with rescue that I didn't feel no disgust for the man I was forced to work with? How could I not object to bein' obligated to be savin' him?_

And yet, some part of her mind kept tracing the assassin's form in front of her. The strong jawline, covered with a dark smudge of stubble, that tapered to a small, firm chin. His light brown skin, made rough by travel through harsh elements, a testament to his travels – sweltering heat from the sun, rain storms, treks through the snow. His nose, an oddly straight and proud nose that seemed to belong to a nobleman. There was a hint of a hawk nose in it somewhere, and yet it was thin, delicate. It was a singular nose that matched his flashing, dark gray eyes, rounded and almond shaped so that they appeared larger than they really were. Catti-brie frowned to herself, puzzled. Her heart gave a queer little jump at the realization that she remembered him as handsome.

_Oh, but ye're cold_, she silently cursed, remembering her scowl at the last moment. _Ye're nothin' but a shell of a good man, left t' rot._ And then it was that she got to the heart of the matter, and crossed her arms over her chest with misery. _Whatever made ye this way?_ For some reason, she just had to know. It was driving her up the wall, not knowing what to think about him any more.

She tried with all her might to go back to thinking of him as a cruel, honed manifestation of killing abilities and calculating cunning, but she couldn't. Not after what he had said to her.

_I'm not to be getting any sleep tonight, am I?_ she thought, looking up at the stars once again, studying them as if they could offer her some comfort the way they seemed to comfort Drizzt. But the stars didn't answer her, and she couldn't help but feel that perhaps they were just pretty decorations sewn up in the sky by the gods to make black less wearisome.

---------------------

As Artemis Entreri approached Mithral Hall, he was shaking with a strange anticipation. He drew the folds of the front of his cloak over the lower half of his face, thinking that if anyone should discover him now, his goal would be lost. His fingers were numb from the cold through his leather gloves. Suddenly, coming upon the place where he planned his own destiny filled him with excitement that could hardly be contained. The hot, icy feeling of adrenaline surged in his chest. He crept with exaggerated care, crouching down low to the ground, heedless of the flecks of melting snow in his long, dark hair.

When he finally reached the precipice where he had been defeated, he stopped, stunned by an unexpected obstacle to his mission. Visible by the fading illumination of starlight was the unmistakable figure of Catti-brie standing by the ledge and looking out beyond. The slim form accentuated by tight-fitting travel leathers, long, curly hair flowing down its back unbound had to be her.

Sensing that he would soon be discovered anyway, he came out into the open, both hands raised in front of him to show that he was holding to weaponry. He made enough noise to let her discover him for herself. Artemis Entreri put on his best smile (that he privately called _See? I'm Harmless_) and met her startled gaze.

A hand flew to her throat. She took a step back and gasped, a small sound that echoed throughout the cliffs. "Ye, ye came back," Catti-brie squeaked. She may as well have been standing right next to him, for the still silence transmitted her voice to him just as easily.

He gave her a friendly nod, and waited patiently, saying nothing.

"W-Why are ye here?" she whispered, gaping at him. She looked around in confusion, and back at him, as if, due to the late hours of the night or young hours of the early morning her eyes might be playing tricks on her.

He was confident that he could bluff her long enough to do what he wanted, and that once she saw what he was going to do, she wouldn't stop him. He'd walked right into the mouth of his greatest nemesis' home, after all. They had no interest in keeping him alive. Artemis Entreri's heart beat rapidly in his chest, though his expression gave no indication of this. He began to walk slowly towards her. Ironically, she was standing exactly where he had been when he had lost to Drizzt Do'Urden. He wondered if she knew that. "It is a beautiful night, is it not?" he asked pleasantly.

As he predicted, she was stunned enough by this comment allow him to get as close as he pleased. The more steps he took towards her, the more his confidence increased. He felt a rush of elation at being only five steps from the edge of the ledge.

"Why have ye come back?" she asked, wide eyes searching his face.

Artemis Entreri smiled. "To die." He had the satisfaction of watching the disbelief begin to spread on her face as she assimilated that reply. Everything happened in slow motion, now. He turned away from her, facing the edge, and took the first step. Then the second, and the third. Now he could see over the edge; the distance disappeared into blackness, as if it stretched forever, down into the pit of the nine hells. He stepped closer. Step four.

His movements were arrested by a pair of strong arms grabbing him from behind and yanking him backwards. Due to his surprise and his exhaustion from the trek, he was flying easily backwards, knocked off his feet. He found himself painfully thrown to the ground, and lay there, stunned, trying to get his bearings and comprehend what had happened to him. He blinked blearily and looked up to see Catti-brie standing over him, looking down at him with a pale-faced snarl of anger, hands on her hips. He didn't quite grasp what she was doing there when he passed out. Sleep mugged him from behind while he was lying down for the first time in over twenty-four hours. In the worst possible timing, but that was Artemis Entreri's life. He could almost get used to it by now.

---------------------

He woke up to the sound of voices arguing. One of them, high pitched and shrieking, was thickly accented with a strange mingling of Dwarven and Tethyr pronunciations. The other one was the soft, lilting voice of a boy, accent full of clipped consonants. He smiled, and lay back in the stiff bed he found himself in, upon recognizing one voice as Catti-brie's and the other as Drizzt Do'Urden's.

"I couldn't leave him to die!" she shrieked from another room.

Artemis Entreri had to listen closely to catch the reply, which was, "He will die soon enough anyway, by my hand, when he is 'well' enough to walk. He is a menace to the community, an assassin, and an affronting sight to Mielikki. He kills for no purpose but gain. His heart is empty."

_So this is what he sounds like when he thinks nobody is listening_, Artemis thought. _Well, well, the mask finally peeled off, and what have we underneath? Another religious fanatic._

He checked for his dagger and his sword, and wasn't surprised to find that he was wearing neither. He laughed softly. He'd been disarmed in his sleep, and would soon die, because he would not raise a hand against the ranger. He was through fighting pointless, masochistic battles against someone who wasn't even of his own race. There was no way that he could win, anyway. Drizzt Do'Urden had friends, while he had none at all. Befitting an evil assassin, he supposed, and the humorousness of that thought to him made him laugh again, even as he could hear the young lady having a fit.

"Ye're not _listening _to me!" Catti-brie shrieked. "He tried to kill 'imself in front of me! It's not right to do that! He's not well! We have to help him!"

"Why, pray tell?" Drizzt's lilting voice said coldly.

_Yes, tell her_, Artemis thought. He smirked at the blank, brown walls of the small room he had been placed in. _You're only a self-proclaimed hero, after all. Why show any mercy to your opponents at all? We both know you're just another self-righteous, over-justified killer. Join the rest of us in reality, if you please._

"He saved us! He saved _you_!"

"He used us, you mean," Drizzt corrected. "He used us to escape the Underdark because he didn't want to be there anymore. We were at his _mercy_, Catti-brie. We couldn't escape without him. How is that saving us?"

_How indeed,_ Artemis wanted to know.

Catti-brie roared in exasperation and rage, "We couldn't escape without him!"

_Exactly_, Artemis thought. _Ungrateful bastard._ _Did you want to die by being sacrificed to an evil goddess?_

He smirked, thinking that no doubt if they ever discovered that he was silently joining in the conversation on both sides, he would be in trouble indeed deeper than a cart of manure.

He began to realize that he was perfectly dry all over, and there was a blanket over him. He couldn't be perfectly dry if he was in the clothing he'd been wearing when he passed out because he had been covered in melting snow, but he was still dressed, and it felt like his clothing. That meant that he had to have been asleep at least a few hours.

He blinked. That was longer than he'd thought. Not only that, but who would pull a blanket over him? Surely not Drizzt. He snorted. The ranger hated him. Drizzt would be more likely to dip his head in a pot of boiling water while he was asleep.

Entreri smiled. Actually, that idea wasn't half bad. The next time he needed revenge, he might try that. He wondered if that would kill, or just cause serious burns.

At this point, the Calishite considered entering the discussion, growing tired of their pointless argument, but he didn't want them to know that he had been listening, so he stayed put and waited for them to come into the room. Then he could pretend to be awakened by their entrance into the small bedroom, and they would probably believe him.

Soon enough, the door flew open, and Drizzt Do'Urden stormed inside, wearing his distinctive green cloak and clutching the hilts of his scimitars.

The young auburn-haired woman trailed in anxiously after him, looking as torn as Artemis had seen her during the journey through the Underdark after escaping the Drow city.

Needless to say, Entreri had plenty of reason to get out of bed and act interrupted. There was no way a honed fighter would stay asleep after a door went banging open. However, Artemis Entreri thought his situation through and decided that precisely for that reason, he was going to sit lazily back in his borrowed bed and open one eye.

The dark elf ranger glared down at the resting assassin in what he probably thought was a menacing expression. Artemis had seen worse. Drizzt stabbed an accusing finger towards him. "She claims you're insane."

Artemis Entreri looked up at his nemesis in a mild mannered way that the assassin was sure must make the impetuous young elf's blood boil. He suddenly smiled at them, then directed a friendly wink to the woman in question. "I'd say she's not entirely sane herself."

"Ye tried to kill yerself!" Catti-brie protested, gaping at him. He noticed that she tended to do that a lot around him.

"I hate to inform you that there is nothing insane about that," Artemis said, grinning up at her. He looked at her incredulously that she was still so naïve about him. She clearly didn't understand what it was like to live his life.

"Why did you become unconscious?" Drizzt demanded. "Catti-brie claims she didn't hit you that hard, and I'm inclined to agree with her."

Artemis shrugged easily, not bothering to sit up or give the elf any indication that he was uncomfortable at finding himself in their hands in a heavily fortified dwarven hall. "Lack of sleep. I'd been up all night, and most of the night before. It was a hard trek back up here. Have you ever tried to cover that much ground in one night?"

Drizzt narrowed his eyes at the assassin. "What did you come back here to do?"

"Hasn't Catti-brie told you?" Artemis asked casually.

The look in the elven ranger's eyes was the only warning Entreri got. Drizzt snapped. "_Don't say her name_!" the dark elf yelled. "Don't you _ever_ say her name!"

Catti-brie grabbed his arm to keep him from advancing on the assassin. Entreri didn't know what he planned on doing. Hearing his woman friend's name from the assassin's lips had apparently thrown him into such a fit of rage that he was on the verge of tackling Entreri on the bed, or cutting off the assassin's head with his scimitars.

"You stay away from her!" Drizzt only narrowly allowed himself to be restrained by the auburn-haired woman. He was struggling and protesting, and Artemis saw tears in the elven ranger's eyes. "She's not interested in your attentions! Keep away from her! Don't touch her!" His voice rose to an irrational, high-pitched scream. "You're evil! I hate you!" Then he doubled over, weeping, and collapsed to the floor, compulsively clutching his sheathed scimitars. "I thought you said you were going away!" he sobbed, pale hair falling over his face. "You were _going away_!"

Artemis watched impassively, feeling nothing at all when the drow ranger had a breakdown in front of him, and Bruenor came rushing into the room, spitting curses at him, at the Drow, at life in general, and at various gods for not protecting them. The dwarf and his daughter – Artemis understood that somehow, the dwarven king had thought it appropriate to adopt the redheaded human woman – dragged Drizzt out of the room. Do'Urden didn't struggle, only cried like a child and shouted, "I hate you!" until he was out of the room and his voice got fainter and fainter until Entreri couldn't hear it anymore.

The assassin wasn't the only one with problems after his stint in Menzoberranzan. Entreri idly sat back in his borrowed bed and considered how their brushes with the Underdark had changed or destroyed all of them. He saw the horrible scars on Bruenor's face, and knew from some recess of his memory that it had to have happened when Mithral Hall fended off the drow. Catti-brie herself was no longer the naïve girl she had been when he had held her hostage. She was still naïve, but she was no longer silent and slow to act when someone was in danger. He, himself, was doubting his entire existence to the point where he felt death was just as good as life, and Drizzt. Well, Drizzt, apparently, was full of tears, aggression, no one to take it out on, and no strength to do it even if he had a target – like Entreri. That, and he knew, from some time when he'd hardly been paying attention, that now Wulfgar was apparently dead.

_Farewell to you_. He thought that had an oddly cheery ring to it, his reflections. _Let's all die_, he thought with some measure of satisfaction.

His thoughts turned to his own unsuccessful attempt at death. He'd let his perfectionism get the better of him the first time. That was the only reason Catti-brie had been able to stop him. All he had to do was sneak out of here and find a knife or a blade to do himself in with.

He got up and walked to the door, opening it out of curiosity. Sure enough, there were two dwarves outside the door, one standing on either side. They looked ahead impassively in that way that Artemis thought was obviously Dwarven for 'Come out here and try somethin' so we have an excuse to pound yer head in before we make you go back in that room of yers'. The assassin smiled to himself and shut the door quietly, retreating back to the bed and sitting on it.

He supposed the only thing to do until one of the 'Companions', as he'd heard them called, came to talk to him again was think. He'd never been very good at thinking. External things, yes. Finding out another person's motives, outsmarting them. Instincts. Intuition. When he thought about himself, all his problems seemed to get worse, so he tried to avoid introspection. It was a curse. Unfortunately, he'd started to unravel like a cheap rug the minute he began thinking about his similarities to the Drow.

And how had Catti-brie charmed him into talking to her? He'd seen her as an amusing audience, thoughtless, yet naïve, curious and impressionable. He'd taken some measure of satisfaction in telling her those things about Calimport, likening himself to a slave, talking about his repulsive clientele. He'd spun exaggerations to disgust her, perhaps, but there had been no outright lies.

Remembering his words to her caused a small pang in his chest. A brief pause where he wondered if he really had always had that level of disgust for his job. If he really thought that he had been strong-armed into the Basadoni Guild against his will – or rather, if they hadn't insisted his joining them, he would have turned out any different.

Artemis Entreri shook his head. The way he saw things on the streets of Calimport, the only difference could have been that he would have become an unpaid killer. Or perhaps, if he would have become a killer anyway, maybe someday he would have joined a guild of his own volition – volunteered to become an assassin.

He dropped his head into his hands. All these what-ifs were starting to make his brain hurt. Aremis growled, and wondered how Jarlaxle could take such pleasure from this game of guessing, of triple or quadruple-guessing oneself and one's opponents. He hated it.

Then he realized what he was doing – that he was even thinking of that infuriating, garishly dressed drow elf – and shoved all thoughts of Jarlaxle out of his mind.

He needed to get up and move around, but he felt tired and sick. The assassin couldn't help getting up from the bed and wearily pacing back and forth across the small, cramped room, even as he knew it wouldn't make a good impression on any of his captors if they came back to find him as restless as a caged animal.

Artemis Entreri realized that he wasn't just sickened by the situation – captured by his enemies in this Dwarven fortress – but that he was most likely suffering the affects of drinking alcohol for three weeks without really sobering up. _Stupid bloody fool._ He clenched his jaw and cursed himself.

As completely unbelievable as it was, it was now occurring to him that the Companions of Mithral Hall might not kill him. The thought disturbed him. What could they do? Try to turn him into some miracle story by 'turning' him, by 'showing him the light', by 'reforming' him?

No! He slammed his fist into the wall, comforted by the pain of punching solid stone. He could not let that happen. He could not allow himself to be used by these people for whatever ends they saw fit, simply because he had walked into their clutches and then… "Of all the ridiculous things, to fall asleep," Artemis said sourly. "I must have a death wish." He felt his throbbing hand and reluctantly admitted to himself with a smile that he _had_, in fact, had a death wish, and that was why he was here.

_And I would do it again_, he reminded himself.

He had time to brood for a long time indeed, because none of the Companions showed their faces in the next several hours. At first, he was angry, thinking that they were ignoring him, but he finally realized that there must be some night left, and they were probably only sleeping. A worn-out smile twitched on his lips. _Like normal people_, he thought tiredly, and he crawled back into the bed they had provided him and fell asleep.

-------------------------

He was awakened by a timid knock on the door, and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, when Catti-brie herself entered, carrying a tray full of food. At his first glance, which he covered up by nonchalantly running his hands through his hair as if to check for tangles, it looked half-cold already, which only confirmed the reasonable assumption that she would eat with her friends, and not with him, therefore the food was his.

He smiled at her and took it with a nod of thanks, biting into a dark slice of wheat bread that had been toasted, topped with butter, and now was soggy. In truth, he didn't care about the state of the food, not even the cold fried eggs on the plate. "Am I a prisoner?" he asked. Normally, he would consider that kind of question rhetorical, but these were strange people he was dealing with. He lifted the fork provided him and cut into the eggs, slicing them into uniform little pieces out of habit more than interest.

She shook her head at him, though her troubled expression made the meaning of the gesture less clear. Was she answering, or was she shaking her head at some thought kept to herself? "Ye can go," she said.

He lifted his eyes and stared at her. "Surely, you're not suggesting that I –"

Then came the surprising sensation of her hand on his, and when he looked down at it, Catti-brie said, in a stronger voice, "But ye can also stay."

She was moving too fast in this conversation for him to comprehend. Artemis Entreri looked up at her face, at the glint in her eyes, and sucked in his breath sharply. "What?" Before she could answer that, he said hastily, clarifying lest she repeat herself, "What makes you think that I want to stay?"

"I spoke for ye," the auburn-haired woman said, as if he needed reassuring. Her eyes were wide. "Ye don't have to fear me or me friends. I told them that if they don't like it, they can beat me up and then throw ye out."

Artemis aimed a wry smile at his plate. "How kind of you." _In short, I am a prisoner here if I don't get her to leave me alone so I can go._ He offered her a conversation, thinking that perhaps if he was civil, she might reconsider whatever screw-brained thoughts she was having about him. "Do you cook?"

Catti-brie looked at him, confused.

He gestured to the half-cold meal.

Her expression cleared. "Ye're lucky to get even that much." She cracked a smile. "Rumblebell- I mean, Regis, ye know – h-he was intent on eatin' all the food on the table. I was the one that insisted that we ought to be feeding you."

The assassin looked at her quizzically. "That doesn't answer my question."

She shrugged. "I know."

"Then… what is it?" He looked at her oddly now. "Do you cook or not?"

The woman stared at him incredulously, then shook her head – not in response, in exasperation. Apparently, with him. "Do ye really want to know? I assumed ye just wanted a conversation with yer breakfast, and if you don't like it, why don't ye just change the subject, Entreri?"

Artemis inwardly tensed and decided he didn't know anything in the nine hells about her. "Then tell me. Am I free to go or not? Are you really going to set me free, or are you going to let me go only long enough to justify hunting me down and killing me? Is that how you work? What does being a 'hero' entail, anyway? Why is it that you feel the need to dictate other peoples' lives?" His gray eyes were hard, and they bored into her.

She put one hand on her hip, now openly angry. "Well, sir Lord, forgive me for tryin' to be kind to you. I won't make that mistake again. Fine, Mister. I won't keep ye here any longer. Ye can go."

Artemis looked at her mildly. "I meant what I said."

"When?" Catti-brie asked, scowling at him.

"When I said that you were too merciful." He stood up, and handed her back the tray. It was true that he was hungry, but he was not hungry for hospitality, so she could have it back.

She stepped back, then scowled more fiercely and held her ground. "And where are ye going? Back to Calimport? Or are you going to try an' make a dive off the side o' that cliff again, like ye did last night?"

Artemis Entreri met her accusing gaze. "What does it matter to you?"

She floundered at the unexpected question, stammering. "W-Why you can't just go out there an', an' end it all."

"Why not?" Artemis Entreri asked, switching gears from cold to patient. He searched her eyes, honestly trying to find the answers there. "What is there, after all, to lose? Tell me. Tell me about the life that I would be missing if I committed suicide. Since you seem so opposed, tell me the alternatives."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

He shook his head. Terror lit her blue eyes, as if she sensed that if she didn't say something quickly, he would die. "You see," he said, shrugging. "To you, my life is a vast emptiness of crime and assassinations. You should not care one way or the other, because to you, my death and life are equally meaningless."

"That's not true!" Catti-brie burst out, and grabbed his forearm.

He paused, wondering exactly what she thought she could do to him, with his wrist in a puny hold with one hand, and a tray of cold breakfast in the other. "If it isn't, tell me what life I would be pursuing," he said patiently. "Search that mind of yours and actually try to broaden your horizons about what life means."

An angry flush came over her pale face. "Ye can't go back to Calimport," she said firmly, glaring at him.

Artemis Entreri opened his hands as if to declare peace and sat back down on the bed. "Very well. What am I going to do?"

"Ye can stay with us," she said impulsively. "If ye change yer ways, me friends would have to welcome you. We can always use an extra pair of hands around here."

He was shaking his head at her. "There you go again," he chided, "making foolish statements and presuming that you know everything there is to know about the world already. Your world is confined to these walls." He gestured. "You have no knowledge of any other way to live, and no desire to learn. You would have _everyone_ live as a dwarf in a fortress underneath the ground." He smiled at her pityingly.

She shifted uncomfortably, blushing again. Her eyes were wide and defiant with the unfairness of his words. "Yer toying with me," she said, her lower lip quivering.

"I am not," he said seriously. "I am merely trying to make you understand why you must let me go."

"So ye can die?" Her voice was shrill.

He shrugged. "So that I can do what I may. If I decide to die, then there is no good reason to stop me."

"Yes, there is!" She stomped her foot stubbornly. "Ye just don't see it right now! Ye speak of my naivete. Well, yer stubbornness is blinding ye right now to all the wonderful possibilities ye could have if ye lived!"

Artemis Entreri crossed his arms and looked at her skeptically, bent on receiving an answer to his still unanswered question. "Why do you care?"

"Ye're a human being!" she blurted. "Ye can't just throw yer life away! I won't let you!"

He raised an eyebrow. Then he smirked. "I see. And because Drizzt is not a human being, because your own 'father' is not a human being, their fates don't matter to you?"

Her face colored from her chin all the way to her forehead, dying itself bright red to her roots in embarrassment at the way he ridiculed her quaint turn of phrase.

"How interesting," Artemis Entreri teased. "I didn't know that Menzoberranzan would bring out so much the of the elitist racist female in you."

"Shuddup," she said thickly, looking down at the floor.

He suppressed a chuckle at her. "I still am not convinced that the best course would not be to walk straight out of here and throw myself to my doom."

"Don't!" She looked up at him quickly in horror.

"But why does my statement inspire such a reaction from you?" Artemis asked with a puzzled frown, looking down at the bed. "First, you go through the trouble of carrying me inside and giving me a bed, then covering me with a blanket and making sure my clothing is dry, and now you bring me breakfast." He gestured at the tray that she was still holding. She looked down at it as much in confusion as self-consciousness. He looked up at her curiously, and asked with no trace of rancor, "What is in that pretty head of yours?"

"Ye were freezing," Catti-brie said. "And ye were exhausted from trekking all the way up here in the snow. And ye were hungry. I could hear yer stomach rumbling when I checked in on you this morning. And ye were mumbling in yer sleep."

Artemis Entreri looked at her with suddenly a great deal more coldness. "I do not speak in my sleep," he said slowly.

She shrugged, sensing that she'd hit a sore spot. "Whatever ye say."

That elicited a flash of anger to appear on his features before just as quickly being replaced by a wary, expressionless mask.

She turned away, as if she wanted to leave to dispose of the tray. "I didn't hear anything important, if that's what ye're so worried about," she said with another shrug. "Ye were just whisperin' somethin' about Jarlaxle an' his plans, or somethin'." Another shrug.

He gritted his teeth. "I do not dream about Jarlaxle." His gray eyes glittered. "I am not a hormonal unmarried woman, but I can understand why you yourself might absolutely long for the kind of attention that only a dark elven lothario like Jarlaxle might offer you in your boring life as a –"

She whirled on him and threw the tray of food in his face. He was hit squarely in the eye with a lump of jam, and as he winced, mouth a small, tight line and his eyes squinted shut, he felt it slowly dripping down his face, bits of strawberry becoming stuck in his goatee. Now he had cold fried potatoes, bread, and eggs in his lap. "That will do," he said.

Her voice was trembling with cold anger. "I'll get ye a napkin." She whirled and stormed through the door, leaving him with his breakfast all over his front.

"At least I had a bite of cold toast," he said to himself, willing himself to remain completely calm. If he didn't, he'd probably throttle her when she came back, and then he really would die. Probably by being ripped apart by angry dwarves.


	3. Chapter 2: Unyielding Chains

**Chapter 2**

Unyielding Chains

-----------------------

Excerpt from R. A. Salvatore's Starless Night:

_The semiconscious Drizzt did not know how long the punishment had gone on. Vendes was brilliant at her cruel craft, finding every sensitive area on the hapless prisoner and beating it, gouging it, raking it with wickedly tipped instruments. She kept Drizzt on the verge of unconsciousness, never allowing him to black out completely, kept him feeling the excruciating pain. _

_Then she left, and Drizzt slumped low on his shackles, unable to comprehend the damage the hard-edged rings were doing to his wrists. All the ranger wanted at the terrible time was to fall away from the world, from his pained body. He could not think of the surface, of his friends. He remembered that Guenhwyvar had been on the island, but could not concentrate enough to remember the significance of that. _

_He was defeated; for the first time in his life, Drizzt wondered if death would be preferable to life. _

_He felt someone grab roughly at his hair and yank his head back. He tried to see through his blurry and swollen eyes, for he feared the wicked Vendes had returned. The voices, though, were male. _

_A flask came up against his lips, and his head was yanked hard to the side, angled so that the liquid would pour down his throat. Instinctively, thinking this some poison, or some potion that would steal his free will, Drizzt resisted. He spat out some of the liquid, but got his head slammed hard against the wall for his effort, and more of the sour-tasting stuff rolled down his throat. _

_Drizzt felt burning throughout his body, as though his insides were on fire. In what he believed were his last gasps of life, he struggled fiercely against the unyielding chains, then fell limp, exhausted, expecting to die. _

_The burn became a tingling, sweet sensation; Drizzt felt stronger suddenly, and his vision returned as the swelling began to subside from his eyes._

_The Baenre brothers stood before him._

"_Drizzt Do'Urden," Dantrag said evenly. "I have waited many years to meet you."_

_Drizzt had no reply._

(230-231)

* * *

Artemis sat carefully still, deliberately losing himself in meditative detachment to escape his emotions and his disgust at the feeling of lukewarm food slowly warming up in contact with his body heat. He had never believed much in the concept of 'inner peace' through a few odd chants and breathing exercises. His method was that of iron will crushing all his human weakness out of his body so that all that was left was a cold, compassionless sentience. No more having to feel, no more having to think through the cluttered, clogged filter of memories and motives. Things that weighed him down, made him confused. In this state of mind, dying was not an option. Death was a weakness, death was an enemy that stole people prematurely, halted plans. Survival was the only option in this icy world he retreated to when he couldn't handle ordinary life any longer.

And after seeing Menzoberranzan – more than that, being subjected to Menzoberranzan's whims – he knew that his life was very ordinary. He was the most mundane of all pedestrian life forms, his comprehension the skittering sentience of a mouse. His goal reached on into oblivion, pointless, and everything he had done in his life was similarly devoid of any worth. A lost creature in a city full of Drow. A pet, or worse, a feral animal to be fought off or ridiculed when he fell.

Artemis Entreri defined Truth as the one thing you didn't want to know. The Truth, then, of his existence was that he had no purpose, that he was as empty as that void left over in his mother's stomach after birthing him, and that void would follow him forever. Godless, Faithless, he had no place in this world entirely controlled by higher powers, invisible and deadly monarchs ruling over the Realms. He did not fit into the complicated scheme of marble-sized souls, the great pattern the gods and goddesses were constructing from afar, assembling the world into a thing whose beauty only they could understand. Or perhaps they were constructing the world like a giant body, and he, the wandering and useless, played the role of a blood clot, someday traveling to the heart of the world and killing it.

The assassin shook his head slowly in undercurrents of horror and despair. Either way, it would be better that he ended it all now, before he could cause things to go further and further out of hand. He never intended to be the destroyer of a world full of people. He would kill until everyone lay around him, fallen. It was his way. His misguided struggle for survival.

The Calishite put his head in his hands. His meditation had failed. He felt worse than he had before he'd attempted to separate himself from the situation.

By the time that Catti-brie came back with a dishtowel and a bucket of soapy water, she had recovered from her show of temper. "Ye must be pretty angry," she said, handing him the towel and patiently holding up the bucket for him with a smirk that he apparently hadn't moved since her attack of retribution on him, "bein' imprisoned in the Underdark an' all by a man you thought would help you."

"I didn't think he would help me," Entreri corrected stiffly, taking the towel from her. He dipped it in the bucket, squeezed it out, and gingerly began to mop at his face. The jam had congealed in his facial hair. "And he is an elf, not a man. There is a difference. Perhaps a substantial one."

"If ye didn't think he would help ye, why did ye go along with his schemes?" Catti-brie asked. "That be a mighty strange thing to do for a man who thinks he's imprisoned."

"I didn't think I was imprisoned," Artemis Entreri said, wiping running egg yolk from his cheek. "I merely did not have a choice. It was either cooperate with his plans, or be thrown out at the mercy of all the other drow in Menzoberranzan."

The auburn-haired woman whistled. "Still, that sounds mighty terrifying."

He gave her a look. "I wasn't scared. Not uneasy, much less 'terrified'. I could have rescued Drizzt alone, for that matter, but I knew that he would not consent to be rescued if he didn't see you in tow first."

She threw back her head and let out an incredulous laugh. "Why, ye slimy little liar!" She couldn't decide if she was amused or offended at that claim. "Ye would've been doomed from the start, Entreri! We only got as far as we did without Drizzt because o' our teamwork!"

"Our?" Entreri looked at her skeptically and scrubbed toast butter from his chin. "Teamwork? Artemis Entreri is not capable of teamwork. He is a loner."

"Is he now?" Catti-brie said, putting one hand on her hip. "What do ye call workin' with others, then?"

The assassin merely raised an eyebrow at her, an expressionless mask on his face. "You were not my 'partner'."

The auburn haired woman stuck her tongue out at him. "Like the fourth layer o' hell I wasn't!" She grinned. "We were good together, too. We could go an' have all sorts o' adventures."

Artemis Entreri gave her a mildly skittish look. "What, like the 'adventure' in the hallways of the Baenre compound, when you went crazy and started shooting everything? I think I would rather stay home. Or better yet, walk off a cliff. It would be safer."

She snorted. "You exaggerate." She became impatient with his progress, grabbed the wet towel from him, and started raking food out of his hair. "Your mother ever tell you ye have a way o' making everything sound bigger'n it actually is?"

He glared at her and snatched the rag back. "For your information, my mother never had the chance to say anything to me, and kindly leave my washing to myself." He continued gingerly cleaning up jam on his face.

She considered punching him right there and then, but saw a raised welt grazing his forehead and a bump almost hidden by his hair and figured she'd done enough damage. "Ye're goin' too slowly. Ye'll need a bath if ye don't hurry up," was all she said about it, and then she took it upon herself to hand him the bucket and sit down on the bed. "You never answered me question," Catti-brie said, bouncing on the bed beside him and tossing her curls. She kicked her feet restlessly and beamed at him.

"Which was?" He wiped some of her handiwork out of his left eye.

"Are ye going to Calimport, or are ye going to stay?"

He looked at her as if she were crazy. "You never asked me that."

She stretched her arms over her head nonchalantly. "Well, I meant to. It's not my fault ye interrupted me before I got there. Ye should know better, not to interrupt a lady."

He growled at her. "You, dear lady, are the only thing in my way. I would reconsider my position if I were you."

She cheerfully bent forward and kissed him on the nose, then leaned back with a cheeky grin. "Well, yer not." She skipped out of the room before he could recover from his shock.

------------------------

_Whatever possessed me to fly off the handle like that in front of Artemis Entreri?_ the elf ranger thought. _Now he thinks that the stay in Menzoberranzan made me some kind of psychopath. _He frowned. _But I'm not a psychopath. I'm fine. I just need someone to talk to, that's all. This stupid Baenre torture thing has been on my mind for the past three weeks ever since I got home. _

Drizzt was lying in bed like a dying moth, tangled blankets lying over him almost artistically. His eyes were closed, but he was still awake. _It's not like I need help. It's just that those images won't go away. They come out of nowhere at me. _He scowled.

Regis only had to take one look at his face to know that he was suffering.

The halfling hadn't been there when it had happened, and he hadn't heard anything, but Bruenor had told him about it. How his friend had just suddenly started yelling 'I hate you' over and over again, even after the aging dwarf and Catti-brie dragged the ranger out of the room where they were holding Entreri. Then Drizzt reportedly collapsed to the ground after fighting off helping hands and insisted on being left alone. Bruenor had lifted the dark elf clean off the ground and slung the waif-like ranger over his shoulder, carrying Drizzt back to the elf's room. When Regis walked onto the scene, Drizzt and Bruenor had already gone, and Catti-brie was the one kneeling on the floor, bawling her eyes out. The halfling had comforted her for nearly half an hour before she could stop saying that it was all her fault for not going to talk to Entreri alone.

And all this at three in the morning! Regis couldn't believe that he'd convinced himself to wake up and help at such an insane hour. He was going to be dead on his feet later.

The halfling crept into Drizzt's bedroom and stood over him. "Drizzt?" he asked timidly. It had been hours, and a good breakfast had woken him up, but now it settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

The elf ranger covered his face with one arm in response and turned over as if trying to hide from the halfling.

_You coward_, Regis accused himself. _It's not Catti-brie's fault. She's just a child. It's yours. You let Drizzt sneak off all by himself_. He felt a pain in his gut. "It's my fault." When Drizzt didn't respond, Regis said it louder, squeezing Drizzt's hand. "It's my fault. I never should have let you go down there alone."

The dark elf lowered his arm from his eyes and looked at Regis incredulously. He said what sounded like, "I didn't let you gone," but it was nothing more than a reproachful mumble. Drizzt then sat up, and glared at Regis for even thinking it. "You're not at fault." He clutched a fist to his chest. "I am. It's me."

Then he went back to his own moody contemplation. He wasn't concerned in the slightest where his friends might have slipped up and not performed their utmost duties to him. He was mortified because he had first vowed never to be afraid of Artemis Entreri again, and then had a breakdown complete with crying in front of a man who surely thought not the best of him anyway, thoroughly humiliating himself and making himself look like a psychopath. And he, the self-taught master of introspection, had no idea why he had broken down like that. He had done worse to Artemis Entreri than the man had ever done to him. He'd screamed in the human assassin's face.

Drizzt put his head in his hands. "What is _wrong_ with me?"

He remembered with mortification that he'd been ready to die in the Underdark when he'd been captured by the Baenres of Menzoberranzan. The city, so familiar but so twisted, shocked him down to the bone, and he felt ever-present terror that he had never remembered having when he had lived there with his family. He hadn't been able to stop shaking throughout the entire escape, and he was so sure at irrational moments that he was going to die, that their escape was in vain, that he would be tortured again and again…

He gave a startled jump as Regis hugged him. He blinked. He'd forgotten where he was.

_Catti-brie is right. I wouldn't have escaped if not for that man. In spite of her and Guen, I was that close to giving up! _That realization shocked him, and a horrible feeling of smallness bordering on self-loathing threatened to make him retreat into his bed and never come out again. He swore, so many times, that he would not be a victim. And here he was, making himself one! _Bad things happen to me. I am not a victim. Victims are people who are helpless because of what they experienced. I am not. I am accountable._ He swore he would never fall into the trap of examining his heritage as a way to explain every mistake he made or every raw emotion he experienced. He did things. His heritage did not control him.

Tears leaked from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "Let me go. I have to go talk to Entreri."

"What?" Regis stared at him. "But he – I thought he –" The halfling had assumed that the assassin had somehow insulted or mocked Drizzt so mercilessly that his friend, still vulnerable from being tortured and almost sacrificed, had cracked.

Drizzt shook his head.

"He didn't?" Regis asked.

Drizzt shook his head again.

"But why?" Regis asked. He squeezed the ranger's shoulder in concern, unwilling to let Drizzt go talk to Entreri in this state.

The dark elf ranger shrugged. "I have a lot on my mind." The meek explanation, with downcast eyes, he knew it looked like an excuse with no substance to it, but he didn't know why he had become so upset.

Drizzt thought guiltily of Catti-brie's description of Artemis Entreri's suicide attempt. He had assumed at first that she had been mistaken about something – people don't just calmly try to walk over the edge of a precipice, smiling all the way. Entreri had something else in mind – perhaps, he'd selfishly thought, Artemis Entreri had _wanted_ her to rescue him. It was just the kind of devious plan that Drizzt saw the assassin as being capable of. Now he burned with guilt, withdrawn into himself. Why would Artemis Entreri risk not being saved, if he wanted compassion or sympathy from her? The answer was painfully clear: The man really had just tried to commit suicide, and Drizzt was blinded by his own feelings, possibly of anger, possibly of envy.

Entreri, a human, no less, had somehow avoided being captured and tortured in Menzoberranzan, while he, a Drow, had been found out almost immediately and tortured until he nearly died. Drizzt had almost left Entreri there in the dungeon cell out of pure anger at the turnaround. He couldn't fit in on the Surface, and then when he goes home, he can't fit in there, either. Then Artemis Entreri comes in smugly to rub it in his face that the assassin can not only fool everyone on the Surface by pretending to have a heart, but he can get around freely in Menzoberranzan without repercussions because he's that good at what he does. It wasn't fair! Entreri had come running in with Catti-brie, their teamwork all unspoken and coordinated, while the elven ranger was hanging from the wall in pain so intense he could barely keep conscious, but he couldn't make himself pass out.

It ought to have been the other way around! _Artemis_ was the evil person – _he_ should have been against the wall writhing in pain while _Drizzt _was standing next to Catti-brie – she was _his _friend, anyway! Not Entreri's!

The drow ranger wept and wept into his hands until he couldn't cry anymore. Drizzt had felt so humiliated by the whole rescue, and he couldn't even think straight enough at the time to figure it out. Now that he was home, he couldn't get away from the images in his mind. Artemis Entreri and Catti-brie sneaking into the compound. How close they had to have been to each other, bodies brushing against each other, to remain hidden. The way they'd left him during the battle in the tunnel to the Surface, leaving him all alone at the forefront while they took up the rear. They were always together, through the entire ordeal. Always together. Drizzt wanted to talk to her several times, wanted her to come along with him on the pretense of hunting so that he could tell her all about what happened to him, so he could cry on her shoulder and she would tell him she understood and just hold him. But every time she stayed behind at the camp with Artemis Entreri, as if she couldn't see through his excuses to his pain. She was his friend. He'd thought she _understood_.

At night, since their return, he'd seen her wandering through the halls, pale and distracted, and he would have given anything to talk to her then, to share nightmares together, to finally have his talks – but to his frustration, it seemed like she was avoiding him! Every time he came looking for her, he couldn't find her! Where could she be going night after night that kept her out until dawn and then made her so withdrawn from everyone, including him, that she hardly spoke ten words to them a day?

And then he'd found out that Entreri didn't go back to Calimport as the assassin had claimed! Entreri lied!

Drizzt felt tears starting again. He knew that Regis was still there, but he didn't care. He wanted to be alone now, even though what he wanted most in the world was for everyone to come and tell him that they cared, and they did understand why Entreri couldn't stay, why the assassin _had_ to leave.

The dark elf had never felt so confused before. Even when Zaknafein died, he understood and was able to cope. It hadn't been his father's fault, it was his evil mother's fault. It had all been her fault all along. His father loved him, and wanted to save him. But now, this, Drizzt didn't know what was happening to him, or why. He was so easily upset that he wanted to hide in his room to avoid a spectacle. He couldn't eat, and then was mournfully hungry when he didn't. He felt tired all the time, but then when he was provoked it was like all that energy he didn't think he had came bursting out of control. The ranger was terrified that any time, Hunter might come back and he would just _kill_ someone one day over not passing the jam quickly enough at the breakfast table. _I'm a wreck, _Drizzt thought.

He wrapped his arms around himself, finally feeling better. His vision slowly became clear of tears, and when he looked up, he saw Regis still standing there. He mustered a trembling smile. "I guess it's understandable I can't be myself when I'm thinking about all the bad things that happened to me." Drizzt tried to make a joke of it, but didn't quite get there.

Regis, predictably, tackled him in a hug again, and swore, "I'm never letting you do that again!"

"What, cry?" Drizzt asked. "I actually feel that may have done some good."

Regis frowned at him. "No, not cry, Drizzt. I'm never letting you go off alone and sacrifice yourself for us. You're not so much more unimportant than the rest of us that we can just wave goodbye and live our lives with clear consciences." He squeezed the scrawny ranger. "No one's that unimportant," the halfling said flatly. "It may be the Calimport in me talking, but I believe we all have a responsibility to ourselves to stay alive as long as possible."

_Maybe I'll go talk to Entreri later_, Drizzt thought, allowing Regis to sit down on the bed so that his friend could keep hugging him. After his cry, and because of Regis' insistent companionship, he was feeling better than he had in weeks. A friend's hug was just what he needed. "Can I tell you…about…" Drizzt's voice started trembling, which embarrassed him almost enough to make him stop asking, but there was the little push of desperation to make him. "…what…happened…to me?"

"Sure," Regis said, smiling at him. His eyes were sad. "I've never talked about Calimport before, but I can tell you it's no picnic. I'll be fine if you tell me what happened."

Drizzt collapsed onto him, eyes squeezed shut, trembling and almost crying again from gratitude. The dark elf ranger clung to him and just released all his emotions after trying not to bother anybody for three weeks. "Th…Th-Thank you."

Regis squeezed him reassuringly, serious-faced. "We all care about you," he said firmly. "We do. We're just not able to show it sometimes. Bruenor's still upset over Wulfgar, and Catti-brie's probably a little nuts right now after being imprisoned in the dark by Jarlaxle."

"Aren't you glad you stayed home?" Drizzt asked. He grinned at the halfling in a fair semblance of his usual self, and shared a laugh with his friend. His face was stained with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief.

"Absolutely," Regis said, and winked. "Someone has to clean up the mess of suddenly-neurotic people around here. Now tell me what happened. I promise I won't interrupt you."

The ranger thought about what he'd been trying to tell Catti-brie all this time. He'd had so much pounding on the inside of his chest as though he would die if he didn't say something. Now, all of a sudden, he didn't want to talk about it anymore. "I'm feeling better." Drizzt wouldn't meet Regis' eyes.

The halfling scowled. "No, you're not. Tell me what happened. I could start guessing, if you want."

"I don't know," Drizzt said, looking around his room. He had the impulse to call Guenhwyvar and sneak off someplace with her. He could always count on Guen, and he didn't even have to say anything. He looked at his friend's face, found the disbelief in Regis' eyes, and said defensively, fiddling with the hilt of Icingdeath, "I can't remember that much. It was all a blur. I just…hurt." He reflexively rubbed his wrists. "They left me hanging by my wrists for days. I…I assumed that I was going to die, because I thought…everyone was safe." He glared at Regis accusingly. "You didn't have to tell Catti-brie where I was. She's all Bruenor has left. How could you endanger her like that?"

"I didn't," the halfling protested, "she did. She wanted to go. I was worried. I didn't want you to die."

"What would've been so bad about that?" Drizzt asked softly, looking down at his lap.

He was almost instantly ashamed of himself, feeling his father's eyes on him and remembering what Zaknafein had said to him all those years. That he, Drizzt, was special, and he had to live at all costs to prove that there was a light in the darkness. He could tell that his father believed that. That his father thought he was better than all the other Drow, that his purpose in life was to make people happy. Zaknafein claimed that Drizzt was his only source of happiness in his entire life, and Drizzt could make anyone with good in their hearts smile. His father told him that was why people who were full of only anger and evil were always attacking him, trying to hurt him, or shut him up, or kill him. They couldn't stand the light in his soul.

_But all I do is hurt people. _Twin tears trickled down Drizzt's cheeks. _Catti-brie could have been killed. Guenhwyvar too! It was only because of coincidence that Artemis Entreri was there and he was willing to help in exchange for his own life. _

"A lot of things would be bad about that!" Regis said, his face showing that he was plainly shocked. He hugged Drizzt, trying again to comfort the elven ranger.

"If…If it weren't for me, they wouldn't be after you." Drizzt felt himself trembling. "They wanted to sacrifice me to Lloth." He had to say it, all of a sudden, and when it burst out of him, he felt a tiny bit relieved. There, he'd said it. He felt a couple of tears well up and drop quickly down his face. "But they wouldn't. They never would have. They said so, but they lied. Perhaps to give me f…false hope." He knew how terrible it sounded, and he was ashamed of himself for seeing his soul perishing in the hands of the Spider Queen as a relief, but he couldn't help what had already happened. "What they really wanted was to torture me. I do not know what I did."

He looked down at the bed, and amended, "Only that I must have ruined the feeling of their city, must have insulted them by trying to bring justice to a lightless world that had no compassion for others, no loyalty, no love, and that in defying them by trying so hard to find goodness in their den of evil, they flew into a rage at my presence."

"You don't have to do anything, Drizzt," Regis said seriously. "The people that enjoy torture find their victims regardless of personal guilt. It's not about you, it's about them and the pleasure they get from the infliction of pain. You should never think it is about you. That is when you start falling into their trap."

"Trap…?" Drizzt repeated the word, hanging on the fragile hope that Regis could say something that would fix Drizzt's guilt and make it go away.

Regis' eyes were very serious. "If you start blaming yourself they let you. Not only that, they encourage you. If you blame yourself, they get off free from blame. They can do it again and again without feeling guilty, and they let you carry the shame they should feel for them, so that they can lure into their clutches again." He squeezed Drizzt's arm. "Don't let them lure you into that trap. If you do, you'll never come out again. I've seen too many friends and family lost to that guilt that never should have been there. Don't do it, Drizzt. It's not your fault."

A small smile quirked the corner of Drizzt's mouth. "If it's not my fault," the elven ranger said, "then it can't be Artemis Entreri's fault, either, can it? It was the Drow who tortured me."

The halfling couldn't escape that logic. Regis blew out a sigh. "You want to go visit Entreri and apologize to him, don't you."

The dark elf ranger nodded and beamed. "Indeed."

Regis gave him a look, attempting to wipe the exaggeratedly light-hearted smile off his friend's face. "He won't receive it well. He's not the type that takes kindly to apologies."

"I know," Drizzt said. He got up from his bed and started walking towards the door. "That is why I must do it. Perhaps Catti-brie is right. We could teach him to be more open. If he has a heart, we should help him to use it."

"Oh, he has a heart, alright," Regis said, not liking the sound of this plan at all. "It's buried in Calimport in some barren graveyard. He probably visits it on his off days and leaves flowers and pretty rocks." The halfling got up with stubborn scowl. "I say he's not worth the trouble. You should leave him alone now."

"Oh, come, Regis," Drizzt said, giving his friend an affectionate smile. _How much lighter my heart feels!_ he thought wonderingly. "When have I ever given up on a good fight? He should be sure to provide me with enough rivalry for the end of my days." Still, the dark elf was fairly certain that his newfound peace of the heart wouldn't hold up when he saw Artemis Entreri face to face.

------------------------

The assassin had no sooner finally relaxed and thought that he was by himself when he heard another knock on the door, almost as timid as the one Catti-brie had made. When he didn't answer, the door slowly opened, and Drizzt came into the room. His big lavender eyes were looking at the floor, and he had the distinctly rumpled look of someone who'd lost it and was still recovering.

Before the elf could even begin to say anything, Artemis Entreri strove to cut him off. "Why do you persist in knocking on that door?" the assassin asked, his face incredulous. "This is not some hotel you are hosting, this is a Dwarven fortress, and this is a room, not _my_ room, mind you, but _a_ room, and I am your prisoner. You don't need my permission to come into your own fortress."

The elf ranger looked at the floor throughout this entire speech with a little, sad look on his face, making Entreri feel as though he may as well have kicked a puppy for all the fruitlessness of the attempt.

When he finished, Do'Urden looked up at him in innocent confusion. His only comment to the whole thing was, "I thought Catti-brie told you that you were free to go."

The assassin glared at him. "_She_ did."

The elf ranger looked at the floor again. "You can say her name," the dark elf said softly. "That wasn't what I was mad about." He scanned the floor, listlessly, for something to focus on. "I came here to apologize. I had no right to speak to you that way, Artemis Entreri, no matter what you may have done to whom."

"Who," Artemis corrected. "The proper usage of 'whom' is…" He caught himself in time and rubbed the back of his neck. The assassin looked away. _Damnit, what do you want me to say to you? That I forgive you? That I want to give you a big hug for being so forthcoming and actually apologizing to me for once? What's the difference?_ "Never mind." The Calishite cleared his throat roughly, glanced at the dark elf's face, and said, "I don't give a damn what you think of me. I have my own life to worry about before I start deciding what everyone should think and how they should act. It's not important."

Drizzt bobbed his head, seeming to take that for an apology. "Thank you." He slowly turned to leave.

Artemis passed a hand over his face tiredly. His brain ached from trying to figure out what was going on. _What do they want from me?_ he growled to himself. The assassin massaged his temples. "That girl," he said, and Drizzt stopped.

The elven ranger turned around and looked at him. "Yes?"

He scowled. "You can keep her. I have no interest in that lunatic of a woman."

Drizzt mustered up a shrug. "I don't think she's so crazy. Maybe she'll grow on you." The dark elf didn't know why he said that, but maybe it was just because he was trying to get back on familiar ground with the assassin. Whenever Artemis Entreri thought something, Drizzt pretended to think the opposite, whether he did or not, just to keep their rivalry intact. The dark elf flashed his human opponent a cheeky grin and then left with a little more bounce in his step.

"She'll grow on me like dry rot," Artemis muttered. He stared with suspicion at the empty space in front of the closed door where Drizzt had stood and racked his brain. _What do they want from me? _

He eventually realized, once more pacing the room, that he was back in a prison just as unspoken and rigidly enforced as Jarlaxle's hospitality in Bregan D'aerthe. For whatever reason, they had taken his weapons, but not his life, and now he was forced to endure more indignities. Most likely, they would also demand his participation in their activities. A bitter smile twisted his mouth, bereft of anything but pain. Whatever else Menzoberranzan had done to him, now he was seeing Drow everywhere; he could no longer tell much difference between Jarlaxle's people and his own.

But that realization, as bitter as it seemed, led him to an inevitable question, yet he hadn't seen it coming. Were the Companions of Mithral Hall, Catti-brie Battlehammer in particular, trying to help him or shield him from some fate perceived to be worse than what would befall him in his solitary life?

The answer he didn't want to hear was 'yes'. Catti-brie believed that if she let him go, he would die, and for some reason, that was so abhorrent to her that she was willing to take away his freedom to assure his survival. He suddenly got the feeling that he was doing the mental equivalent of beating his head against the wall and scowled. Thanks to his long years spent trying to avoid anything resembling a thought, without the plotting genius of Jarlaxle at his side, Artemis Entreri was just thinking in circles.

And then, when he realized what he was doing, the assassin sat down on the narrow bed and ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Damn it, get out of there. Stop haunting me, damn you." Why was he doing this? Would he do this forever? Would he spend the rest of his life expecting to see Jarlaxle over his shoulder – or worse, lament Jarlaxle's absence for the rest of his life?

This was insane. He'd only just escaped that perversely helpful bastard, and now he was already willing to walk back into Menzoberranzan and let Jarlaxle think for him. Artemis' mental anguish was almost beyond bearing. _What have you done to me?_


	4. Chapter 3: Running

**Chapter 3**

Running

--------------------------

Excerpt from R. A. Salvatore's Starless Night:

_The dark elf's slender fingers, lightly touching, making not a sound, traced the grain of a wooden door. He had no desire to disturb the person within, though he doubted that her sleep was very restful. Every night, Drizzt wanted to go to her and comfort her, and yet he had not, for he knew that his words would do little to soothe Catti-brie's grief. Like so many other nights when he had stood by this door, a watchful, helpless guardian, the ranger ended up padding down the stone corridor, filtering through the shadows of low-dancing torches, his toe-heel step making not a whisper of sound. _

_With only a short pause at another door, the door of his dearest dwarven friend, Drizzt soon crossed out of the living areas. He came into the formal gathering places, where the king of Mithral Hall entertained visiting emissaries. A couple of troops – Dagna's troops probably – were about in here, but they heard and saw nothing of the drow's silent passing. _

_Drizzt paused again as he came to the entrance of the Hall of Dumathoin, wherein the dwarves of Clan Battlehammer kept their most precious items. He knew that he should continue, get out of the place before the clan began to stir, but he could not ignore the emotions pulling at his heartstrings. He hadn't come into this hallowed hall in the two weeks since his drow kin had been driven away, but he knew that he would never forgive himself if he didn't take at least one look. _

_The mighty warhammer, Aegis-fang, rested on a pillar at the center of the adorned hall, the place of highest honor. It seemed fitting, for to Drizzt's violet eyes, Aegis-fang far outshone all the other artifacts: the shining suits of mail, the great axes and helms of heroes long dead, the anvil of a legendary smith. Drizzt smiled at the notion that this warhammer hadn't even been wielded by a dwarf. It had been the weapon of Wulfgar, Drizzt's friend, who had willingly given his life so that the others of the tight band might survive. _

_Drizzt stared long and hard at the mighty weapon, at the gleaming mithril head, unscratched despite the many vicious battles the hammer had seen and showing the perfectly etched sigils of the dwarven god Dumathoin. The drow's gaze drifted down the item, settling on the dried blood on its dark adamantine handle. Bruenor, so stubborn, hadn't allowed that blood to be cleaned away. _

_Memories of Wulfgar, of fighting beside the tall and strong, golden-haired and golden-skinned man flooded through the drow, weakening his knees and his resolve. In his mind, Drizzt looked again into Wulfgar's clear eyes, the icy blue of the northern sky and always filled with an excited sparkle. Wulfgar had been just a boy, his spirit undaunted by the harsh realities of a brutal world. _

_Just a boy, but one who had willingly sacrificed everything, a song on his lips, for those he called his friends. _

"_Farewell," Drizzt whispered, and he was gone, running this time, though no more loudly than he had walked before._

(3-5)

* * *

Since Artemis knew with certainty that this period of several visitations in a day would not last, he knew that he had to find a way to entertain himself. The alcohol was steadily leaving his system, and his tangled thoughts and feelings with it. His renewed calm settling over him like a cold, damp cloth was a relief to him.

He stuck his gloved hands into a pocket at his belt and grinned bleakly. One thing that they hadn't taken from him was his pair of dice. He sat on the stone floor of the small room, leaning against the bed comfortably, and started throwing dice, playing a mental game with himself. This mental game was devised of something that interested him: probability. He tried to predict which numbers in which combinations would come up on the dice, or tried to figure out what the two dice would add up to most frequently, all out of this fascination of the similarities of the possibilities that could result from two simple, cubic dice. When he was an assassin – that is, when he currently pursued a job involving assassination – knowing these possibilities, knowing all sorts of possibilities and being able to pick out the most likely ones would save his life, his job, his reputation.

Actually gambling on the outcome of a roll of the dice was something he did not even consider, however attracted to the idea of besting someone through probability he would be. He knew that only fools gambled, which was another thing that bothered him about Jarlaxle. Jarlaxle committed to things, everything from purchases to entire ventures, which were composed of nothing but gambles stacked on gambles to make a house of cards. The assassin couldn't stand it. Every angle Entreri considered it from, he only saw an unsupported gamble being taken, a chance that he – and Jarlaxle – could lose everything by taking such a chance.

Artemis stomped straight down, slamming his heel into the floor. He couldn't believe himself. Here he was thinking about Jarlaxle again! Wandering back to the same flamboyantly dressed subject as if he had an addiction to the mercenary drow. He snatched up the dice again and clenched his fist around them. _Damnit, if he's going to make me think of him every ten minutes, he could at least show up and get me out of here._

The idea stuck with him for an alarming, hope-inspiring moment. Then he slowly shook his head and forced himself to let go of it. Jarlaxle doubtless had more important things to do than 'rescue' Artemis, and Artemis was no longer his problem. _If_ Jarlaxle was still watching him with spies the way he had been trailed through Menzoberranzan, the elf had no reason to care unless Artemis offered him something.

The assassin was not willing to go back to Menzoberranzan just to escape from the moronic clutches of The Companions of the Hall. That was out of the question. He was never going back to that darkness, that oppressive night that never for _gods' sake_ _ended_.

He threw his dice again and sent them tumbling across the bare room with a force fueled by anger.

_So I'm stuck here until I agree to whatever thematic changes of redemption Catti-brie makes for me_.

He honestly didn't know whether to be insulted by her insane behavior towards him, or, insanely, flattered because she was the only woman in his definitely miserable, definitely poor life who had expressed interest to this degree about him. It was obsessive, and someone being capable of obsessing over him was an almost appealing concept. He'd never been paid attention to, after all, until he'd _made_ people pay attention by becoming a threat to them. He didn't have to clamor for her attention. Which should be a positive.

Artemis frowned. But he didn't want her attention. Except that he felt flickers of doubt in his chest and realized that as far as attentions went, he wasn't that discerning. He didn't mind her red-headed eccentricities.

But he didn't want _her_ to know that. The pushy, easily angered type that she was, she would probably run him ragged with her cloying, annoying poking and prodding, asking him questions and plaguing his every waking moment with her presence. He was in no way open to receiving the smothering weight of a 'dwarven' woman who was a restless bundle of nerves waiting for another adventure.

But on the other hand, if he could regulate her exposure to him, she might be worth the company. A frown of indecisiveness tugged at the corners of his mouth. He threw up his hands. He didn't know what to do.

He imagined what Drizzt Do'Urden would do to him if the elf ever found out he was even having these thoughts, and laughed, shaking his head. _Run away at the first opportunity is what I should do, before he kills me._

But that only reminded him of why he was here in the first place. He crossed his arms and hugged them to his chest tightly. He'd gotten himself into this mess because he'd decided that dying was easier than staying alive. And maybe it really wouldn't hurt if he made the decision himself. Maybe it was time to end things.

_And what would I do if I escaped?_

He suddenly knew that he couldn't stomach going back to his old life. A thief, an assassin. The Drow city of Menzoberranzan had made him feel feelings he had never associated with his job before. He felt as though he had been used.

Before, in Calimport, he would have said that it was true that he was being used, but he was using everyone around him at the same time, so his presence was a double-edged sword. They could manipulate him all they wanted, but not without being cut.

Now, it was as though a blindfold had been removed, and he saw what was really thought of him. To some degree or another, when someone else saw him, they saw a ruthless…tool. They saw an assassin as someone to be used and hated, never condoned, even as the wealthy and the politicians hired these 'reviled' assassins and trusted them with the most dangerous, most violent acts of their strategies for survival. An assassin could never be important in their own right.

Artemis felt long-suppressed feelings of anger rising to the surface like a stain.

Once, he would have said that hatred and fear were good outcomes; that these emotions inspired in others would protect him, it would keep others away from him, and it would keep people from thinking to hurt him. Now he saw that he had been wrong. Hatred and fear pushed people to new heights in order to destroy him. 'Destroy' because they argued that his soul was already dead, and that his life was meaningless, therefore the only thing left to take away from him was the ability to live.

Artemis Entreri felt his anger turn into frustration at the fruitless search for someone to blame, and the frustration predictably turned inward and distilled into self-loathing. He had already tried, so many times, to rid himself of that which was at the root of his problems! He had tried, so many times, to rip out the source of his suffering, to scour himself clean of stupidity, of naivete, of weakness, and still, that damnable root of blame was still there in his heart. What did it _want_ from him? How could it only grow tougher and more gnarled with the passage of time, like an ancient tree feeding on all of his mistakes? _Your search to be the greatest warrior was in vain, _a horrible voice in his head said, the speaker of all of his doubts. _You know you can never be the best, and if you cannot, what use are you? _

All of these were reasons to destroy _himself_.

---------------------

Catti-brie found herself in an unusual dilemma. She was hardly ever unsure of herself, and yet, she felt oddly self-conscious today. _I'm not really ignorant, am I? _In spite of reassuring herself that Entreri's taunts about her were just that, just taunts meant to get her angry and get her to argue with him, she found herself worrying. _What if I am wasting me time around here when I could be explorin' the rest 'o Faerun? _And then, uncomfortably, _Is Calimport really all that different?_ The auburn-haired woman slowly paused and became very still as something else floated to the top of her brain. _Regis be from Calimport…_

Catti-brie sought out Regis, and found him with his guard patrol. "Rumb – Regis," she hastily remembered as several dwarves bristled at her use of the casual name for their leader. Even though they were much shorter than she was, she had to resort to fast, long-legged strides to keep up with them as they tramped through the many, echoing halls of the underground fortress. "Regis, I need to talk to ye!"

The halfling smiled at her apologetically. "I know, but if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would get Taulmaril from your room and join the patrol. I have my duties as Watch Commander to think of."

"Aye!" the dwarves roared enthusiastically in unison.

"Where will ye be when I get back?" Catti-brie asked.

Regis said, "We're headed to the lower mines right now. After you and Drizzt came back that way, we decided it would be a good idea to make sure nothing else crawls out of the Underdark."

The dwarves all bobbed their heads in agreements and fondly stroked their various weapons.

She ran to her room and back, breathless and impatient for answers.

--------------------

"What you want from me you could just as easily look up in a book," Regis said. "Why don't you?" He looked at her curiously, shrewdly trying to ferret out the cause of her sudden interest in the desert city.

"Maybe I want some real answers instead of some stuffy outsider's opinion," Catti-brie said with a wheedling smile. "I bet ye know how it really is, not how people make it out t' be. I know nothing would be as accurate as a first-hand account."

"You're curious because the assassin doesn't make sense to you," Regis said.

She scowled and pouted. "Aye. Now _tell_ _me_. Please!" She hated admitting to not knowing how someone was feeling and why.

"There _are_ good things about Calimport," Regis said, as though he were having to defend the city's reputation from her. He frowned. "Of course," the halfling said with a shrug, "the good things are usually only available to the rich, and those who can weasel into some important person's favor."

"Ye mean…?" Catti-brie frowned.

Regis gave her an odd look. "Calimport's largest population is poor, you know. Poverty accounts for almost seven eighths of the entire city. The guilds controlling the wealth make sure people stay poor, and they themselves stay in power. It's been an uninterrupted balance since Calimport was born."

------------

_Imprisonment is going to drive me insane_, Artemis Entreri stoically observed. He felt oddly detached as he looked down at his own shaking hands.

No more than an hour ago, surely not more than that, he had reached up to the collar of his cloak in irritation to take it off, and then closed his hand around the steel cloak pin. Stunned, he manipulated the pin's clasp and took off his ragged gray cloak, uncharacteristically letting it fall to the floor in a heap as he inspected the fastener. It was an oval-shaped metal decoration on the front, and when he turned it over, a clasp and a long, three inch pin were exposed.

He stared at the gleaming needle. It was sturdy enough to puncture and hold a heavy cloak, but surely he didn't think it would be any good in his quest to commit suicide. It had no cutting edge at all to drag across his wrists, and it wasn't long enough to reach his heart. _What in the nine hells am I going to do with this?_ And yet he sat there, staring at it all the same. He didn't know what he was thinking.

He was still staring at it when Catti-brie came in. She was back again. Did she not have anything else to do, today or ever? Was he speaking the truth when he'd called her a bored, unmarried woman?

At the curious lack of a greeting, he finally tore his eyes away from the cloak pin and looked at her. She was staring at him.

In spite of himself, a little smile twitched on his lips. A part of him was amused that after her long speeches, which she probably still thought would make a difference to him, she had come in to see him fondling a sharp object in his hands. "Hello. Is something wrong?" The assassin thought for a moment. "Was I not gracious enough in accepting Do'Urden's touching apology permitting me to say your name out loud_?" I wonder what she thinks about that_, he thought.

"What are ye doing with that?"

He looked at her rather helplessly, and thought that it wouldn't be quite so damned stymieing if he had figured out the answer himself. "Never mind." He put the cloak pin down on the bed, absently fastening the pin closed so that it couldn't hurt anyone, and loosely folded his hands in his lap. He looked directly into her eyes. "What can I do for you this time?"

Catti-brie sat down on the bare floor and looked up at him. "Tell me about Calimport." She seemed to have taken his words at face value, fully expecting him to describe the city he had spent most of his life in.

Entreri stared at her with nothing but simple confusion on his face. Then he seemed to become peevish. "Well, for starters, in Calimport, most women know their place and do not presume to follow men around all day asking foolish questions."

"Then I'd say ye don't know enough about women," she said snidely. "We're not all the type to squeak like mouses if we're so much as threatened, Entreri, and ye need a good, strong 'un to stand up to ye and yer temper tantrums."

He glared at her, looking positively enraged for a moment, and then, somehow unexpectedly, his rage cooled off. He merely nodded at her. "Indeed. That may be true." His voice was quiet and mild.

Catti-brie gave him a look, but she couldn't discern the source of his self-control. "What else do ye know about Calimport?"

"Where should I start?" he retorted. "I've lived there for my entire life." That was not precisely a lie. He just didn't consider his early childhood a life.

"Why do ye seem so formal?" Catti-brie asked. "Is that yer culture, or are ye just stuffy?"

He stared at her. "Formal?" He scowled at her. "How do you expect me to act in the presence of strangers?" Then he raised an eyebrow mockingly as an idea came to him. "Like a gentleman?" His unpleasant smile following that question was enough to make her blood boil.

"No," she said, glaring at him. "Like you might actually care about someone."

"But I don't," Artemis said. He crossed his arms. "You would be asking me to commit a lie by insinuation."

"Ye liar," Catti-brie said. "Ye cared about me." When that didn't elicit a response, she pressed, "When ye tried to make me cross the rope ye threw over to the tunnel. I couldn't go, and ye tried to make me cross, because you were scared about what might happen to me, remember?"

He looked away. He did remember. An unnamed guilt pierced his attempts to deny it or his feelings, only lighting the scene in his imagination more brightly. It was a moment of terror and vulnerability that he was suddenly aware he didn't want to ever experience again.

He shook his head slightly, but lest she interpret that as a negative, he said haltingly, "I do…remember." He didn't know why he would be disappointed if she thought that the moment had been a counterfeit, if she believed any denial of what had happened at that moment with them both on the wrong side of the rope. But he cared, and he cared probably more than he had cared about anything since returning from that land of darkness.

Thankfully, Catti-brie, for all of her faults, seemed to possess enough tact to change the subject back to Calimport.

---------------

After an hour of useless questioning, Entreri couldn't take it anymore. His desire for company was one more outweighed by the annoyance of having company. "Surely you can find something else to do other than bothering me," he said.

The auburn-haired woman looked around the room for inspiration, and then settled on his worn travel pack, resting against the wall. "I'll do ye a favor." She beamed innocently and hefted the bag.

He twitched, and then furiously clenched his jaw, sitting stock still until he could control himself again. "What, pray tell, are you offering?"

Catti-brie opened his pack and started sifting through it. "Well, ye have a lot o' dirty clothing."

"That comes of traveling," Artemis said.

She grinned at him and held up a mud-caked pair of breeches. He stared at it, the memory of cleaning the horse stalls of his tavern refuge out of sheer boredom flooding back to him. "How'd ye get so messy?"

She would surely interpret his story wrong. Try to portray it as a moral act shining through his black soul, or whatever cracked nonsense they believed in. "None of your business," he said with a threatening glare. "Now put that down."

"Who's going to do yer laundry? Yerself?" Catti-brie snorted.

Artemis stared at her icily, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I would, but you are not going to let me out of the room, are you? You would rather do demeaning tasks for me."

She smiled and walked over to him as if to leave him with some puzzling parting gesture as she had before by kissing him.

He leaned back a little in spite of himself and waited.

She stared at him. Then she flicked the tip of his nose, a startling little pinch of pain that made his jaw drop in outrage. She withdrew before he finished struggling with his sudden, fiery desire to kill her with his bare hands. "Yer welcome." She trotted off with his pack.

---------------

Catti-brie was happily folding laundry into a wicker basket with a sense of fulfillment showing on her face that tipped Regis off right away. Folding laundry was a woman's task. Therefore, Catti-brie had never wanted to do it. Much less take enjoyment from it. Something else was up.

"You are looking happy today," Regis said, coming up beside her with a friendly smile. "I was afraid that you'd be more upset, considering the events of this morning."

She threw him a confused glance before biting her lip in concentration and folding a white, button-up shirt, eyeballing it critically before dropping it into the basket on top of three pairs of breeches. "Aye, I suppose that dealin' with the assassin was a little trying, but still, ye can understand his distress. I doubt he's ever committed suicide before. He can't like bein' here."

"I meant…" Regis trailed off when he saw more clearly the contents of the basket. "This isn't your laundry."

"Nope," the red-haired woman said cheerfully. "It's fer Artemis Entreri."

The halfling's brow burrowed. "Why are you doing his laundry?"

She gave him a look and shook her head in exasperation. "I thought ye'd think of it obvious. Artemis Entreri can't wear the same clothes forever, and since he's not allowed out of 'is room, 'tis not like he can do his own laundry." She finished folding and picked up the basket. "Someone's gotta take care of 'im, ain't they? It's not like ye an' Drizzt 'll be down on yer knees doin' his wash." She carried the basket away, humming a pleased, self-satisfied tune.

"Um," Regis said.

-----------------

The elven ranger let out a long, deep breath.

He felt better after confronting the assassin and forcing Entreri to listen to an apology so that there was no more between them Drizzt owed him, but still, there was this restlessness, and this overwhelming desire to come face to face with his tormenting memories and defeat them with his scimitars. He fastened the clasp of his green cloak.

He closed his door quietly behind him and was walking down the hall when he met the glaring visage of Catti-brie in front of him. He flinched and hung his head, feeling foolish for not realizing that after the stunt he pulled, his friends were watching him like hawks. Drizzt Do'Urden summoned up a feeble, sheepish smile. "Greetings. How are you this fine morning?"

His answer was Catti-brie's scowl. He laughed nervously. "This is not what it appears to be. I was merely…going yeti hunting."

"Ye won't mind me Da comin' along for the hunt, then." The auburn-haired woman put her hands on her hips.

The elven ranger whirled around at the sound of slow, heavy footsteps, and saw the old dwarf. "Bruenor is quite welcome to come," Drizzt said meekly. "I simply did not want to bother anyone…" He trailed off as he realized that was the wrong thing to say. He winced, and waited for the tongue lashing to come. Nothing happened. Instead, when he opened one eye, he saw a shining expression of pity on her face.

"Oh, Drizzt." She tackled him in an abrupt hug that threw him off balance. "Ye don't need t' go anywhere. Ye can stay here. I know ye're uncomfortable what with Entreri bein' here, but he can't leave his room, and he won't bother you anymore. He promised. He wouldn't do that if he wanted to fight ye again. He wouldn't. I know he's a strange man, but his word's as good as any man's."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. He thought suddenly, irrationally, that she was going to kiss him, in front of her father and everything, and then he realized that she was tracing a wound that had never quite healed, a long scar down his face. The dark elf avoided her eyes, stunned and ashamed of himself for presuming to project his feelings onto her this way. She didn't love him that way. That had been Wulfgar's place.

"Well, girl?" Bruenor asked, glaring at her without any real bite. "Are we gonna mow down some yetis or are we gonna stand here jawin' all day?"

"Me?" Catti-brie said innocently. "I'm not to be goin', Da. I thought me that this would be a boys only expedition. Ye need some kind t' cool off 'n get yer heads screwed on straight, aye?" She patted Bruenor on the shoulder and kissed his weathered cheek, then skipped the scene.

Bruenor looked down at his axe. "Ye were missed around here, elf. Why'd ye have to go off like that without tellin' anybody? I thought ye'd lost yer wits an' went off to kill yerself."

Drizzt stared at him, at a loss. "I'm sorry, Bruenor," he said softly, moved to words. "I didn't mean to." He took a step towards his old friend, then stood there indecisively, not sure how the aging dwarf would react to any gestures of affection.

Bruenor solved the problem for him by reaching out and gruffly patting his arm. "Don't do it again, ye durned crazy elf. Ye're supposed to outlive me."

The dark elf smiled wryly at the way they'd avoided really talking about anything that made them uncomfortable by resorting to nickname calling and banter. "Right."

The old dwarf rubbed his hands together. "What do ye say we spend the rest o' the day fightin' and be back by dinnertime with a few new yeti pelts?"

Drizzt smiled, the first real smile in a long time. "I would like that."

They set off into the snow, and the familiar routine of tracking quarry soothed Drizzt's soul. They ate lunch on the trail, and sometime in mid-afternoon, found the tundra yeties. They trekked back to Mithral Hall with the sun setting.

Over dinner, the dark elf let Bruenor tell the tale of their hunt, adding only occasional comments of his own. Drizzt noticed that whereas Bruenor was too loud, brazenly trying to cover up the ache of Wulfgar's absence from the table, Catti-brie was too quiet, looking down at her plate as if deep in thought. The ranger looked over at Regis, and nearly fell out of his seat with surprise. Something was troubling the halfling to the point where shock and anger showed on his normally angelic face. Drizzt wondered what could possibly have occurred in the space of one day to change everyone so. _Was it Artemis Entreri's fault_? Drizzt asked himself. _He did fall into our midst rather suddenly. The ripples could be having repercussions on everybody._ He sipped his mead and thought about that for a long time into the night.

-----------------

Artemis awoke to the sound of the door to his room opening. He carefully maintained his deep, slow breathing and watched out of the corner of his eye as Catti-brie snuck into the room, no doubt thinking herself stealthy, and deposited a pile of clothing in a basket. She set his pack against the wall where it had become designated to rest and left, assuming that she hadn't awakened him.

Once she left, he stretched, got out of bed, and carefully lit the lone oil lamp 'generously' bequeathed to him during his stay. It was the clothing that she had taken from him the other day. Puzzled, but relieved, he had changed into a fresh shirt and breeches by the time she cheerfully knocked on his door and gave him breakfast.

This time, instead of antagonizing her, he merely nodded and said a quiet, "Thank you." She took this compliment – for in the case of the assassin, it was one – with a puzzled frown, and a somewhat humbled retreat. When he finished eating, he gave the tray to one of the two dwarves posted outside the door. They grumbled, but didn't say anything to him directly. He wondered if he could get used to this as a routine, and then shook his head, shoving the thought away.

The next person to visit the Calishite was Regis, the annoying halfling.

"So, how's dear old Calimport?" Regis asked, a pleasant, conversational smile on his cherubic face.

_I might actually know if you and your friends would let me return there_, the assassin thought. Artemis studied his one-time quarry and quickly thought through all possible permutations that could lead the halfling to talk to him alone. He decided that either A) Regis simply was not afraid of him when he was in this caged state, or B) Someone, possibly Catti-brie, had sent the halfling here to keep an eye on him, and they were all going to take turns. Artemis Entreri decided to cut through all the useless chatter. "Who sent you?"

Regis raised his eyebrows, his expression a declaration of innocence. "No one. I came of my own accord. As a matter of fact, I'd like to know what I missed." The halfling gestured with one pudgy little hand. "As you can see, I am completely swamped in the duties of my new life as one of the righteous, but that doesn't mean I don't still think about the days on the streets, where wits are the only thing that keep you alive."

Artemis stiffened at the implication that he had ended up here in this room without any of his weapons because he didn't _have _any wits. "Leave. Now."

Regis looked politely puzzled. "But I thought Drizzt had said you told him this wasn't your room, and therefore, we didn't even have to knock on the door." He shrugged. "It was your choice, after all, but since you forfeited all your rights to privacy…"

Artemis Entreri gritted his teeth to keep from cursing and turned away, determined not to hear any more of Regis' verbal assault on him.

"Talking to the wall, eh?" the halfling said, his tone a great deal more merciless and mocking than Entreri supposed he ever revealed to his new 'friends'. "Well, that doesn't matter. I know you, and I know your kind. You'll listen."

Entreri incredulously met Regis' eyes. _How low have I sunken that even this fat, retired thief dares to speak to me this way?_ "What? What could possibly be so important that you could deem it necessary to walk in here and patronize me, even after I have done nothing wrong?"

Instantly, he regretted his words. _Nothing wrong? _Since when had that mattered? And since when was he so desperate for mercy that he would remind his own enemies that for once, he was not their attacker?

_But on the other hand_, the assassin thought, trying to soothe himself_, if they claim to be so heroic, they would at least pretend to care that I am not the aggressor in this situation. It is they who are keeping me hostage against my will._

And then, he sighed, let himself show a resigned smile, and let it all go. He was here because this was revenge. It was so simple he'd completely overlooked it. Of course. That was why they were keeping him here. It made perfect sense now, Catti-brie's interest in him. She was exacting revenge, not trying to help him. In the oddest way, having the situation back within his mental grasp was such a relief that he didn't care if he had to stay here for the rest of his life, being imprisoned here until he was nothing more than a lifeless bag of bones. "Very well," he said, leaning back on the bed and comfortably crossing his arms. "What is it that you have to say?"

"Catti-brie cares about you," Regis said. "I don't know why, and possibly never will, she sees something redeemable in you, but I've appointed myself the task of making sure that you don't mess it up."

"Pardon?" Artemis wasn't hearing what he wanted to hear. In fact, he was fairly certain that he should never be hearing this. He wasn't redeemable. He was a heartless assassin whose only comfort in life was being able to kill everyone around him, and those that didn't understand him because they couldn't stretch to being cynical enough were simply not worth his time. The gears turned in his head for a while before he willed himself to speak. "You…" He gestured in disbelief. "You want me to court this woman."

Regis raised an eyebrow. "I want you to get as far away as the time will allow. If it were up to me, I would return your weapons to you and tell you to rot in Calimport or the Nine Hells for all I care."

Absurdly, even as he registered that Regis was trying to insult him, he felt a wild flicker of hope in his chest. Finally, one of these blasted, scramble-brained Companions was speaking sense, and he had a chance of escaping here. "Then why don't you?" Artemis asked, leaning forward persuasively and fixing the halfling with a measured gaze. "I would be more than happy to leave you alone and never come back."

The halfling frowned at him as if in mild surprise that he hadn't been listening. "Because it would break her heart."

Artemis leaned back again, smile gone. "I see." He was silently cursing to himself in fluent Calishite. Outwardly, however, he maintained his utmost calm.

Regis stared at him coldly. "I know you probably have no interest in this, but listen anyway. Catti-brie and Wulfgar were engaged to be married, and then Wulfgar is killed in battle, so now after being so close to being married and secure for the rest of her life, it was all taken away, and she's forced to be alone. Bruenor would be happy if she mourned for the rest of her life, but she won't, and didn't. She's moved on, and the first step she took in completing her life again was to get attached to you."

_Touching_, Artemis mused, with only a minimum of acidity. _He hates me, yet is willing to let Catti-brie court me. He must care about her so. _The assassin smiled, a small, sharp expression with a vicious dagger edge. He was, once again, laughing at himself. _Regrettably for me. It would be so much easier if he agreed with me._ "And what if I decide not to cooperate?"

The halfling stared at him. "I believe that's a rhetorical question for someone who's lived in Calimport." Regis got up from his chair and turned to leave the room. "Use your imagination." He left without another word, closing the door behind him.

Artemis Entreri hated the common ground being from Calimport gave him with the overweight halfling. Regis knew how Calimport natives thought. What their motivations were. How they reacted. He was being steadily penned in by these people, and he didn't like it. Artemis Entreri despised being manipulated. He clenched his fist in a crushing grip that didn't allay his anger.

Then a thought came out of nowhere, astonishing him into feeling a spurt of horror in his chest. So that kiss on the nose had been - ? His eyes widened. Damnit! She had gotten past her defenses with her conversation and stupid bantering and actually… His skin started to crawl… _been able to touch me_.

He whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall. _That's it. No more mistakes. The next time she comes into this room, she'll have to stand by the door, and I don't care what she's carrying._ With the gods as his witnesses, he was not going to make her happy and fill the alleged oh so sorrowful hole in her pathetic life by playing the romantic in order to avoid being killed by her friends. His face burned with the level of rage he was experiencing. He was not going to be played like a fool. He had not escaped Menzoberranzan for this.

In spite of however much he might curse these circumstances, they gave him a new fuel to pursue life. He had to get out of here. That immediate goal pushed all thoughts of suicide firmly away in the struggle to survive. Slavery in deed or spirit was not survival. It was death.

------------------

After that, the next disturbance to his solitude was a knock on the door hours later, followed by Catti-brie's voice saying, "I'm coming in." She made good on her word and opened the door. She was carrying another tray. "I have lunch for ye," she said softly. She was subdued, and upon finding him on the bed, sitting with his back towards her and with his head resting on his clasped hands, she barely tried to coax a word out of him. "Are ye well?" When he didn't answer, only sat there, too-pale and carefully still, she set the tray down on the floor and left.

It was all he could do to control himself and retrieve the tray, then sit down and calmly chew the slices of ham, the baked potato, and the creamed corn.

While his body mechanically took care of the necessity of nourishment, the gears in his mind were turning. How could he escape and when? The matter was of putting pressure on the right Companion of the Hall and relentlessly pushing until they released him. But which one? The only one who had not been to see him was Bruenor, and he suspected it was because the old dwarf didn't care. No, dwarves were like stones, especially the older and wiser ones. Bruenor wouldn't budge. He would just tell the assassin that whatever Catti-brie wanted, that's what he was going to give her. Regis the blackmailer was out of the question, especially since the smug halfling was relishing Artemis' imprisonment.

That could only leave Drizzt. Artemis Entreri came back to life at that conclusion, suddenly tasting his food for the first time. He had time to register that it wasn't bad, before he realized that once again, he was excited at the prospect of a challenge, an escape, a future outside of these bleak, stone walls. He could do it. He was sure of it. All he had to do was offer something that the dark elf ranger wouldn't be able to refuse. For all that the legends and his friends said about him, Drizzt was weak right now. He was the perfect target. Entreri would get the drow to return his weapons to him, and then he would escape – perhaps with the ranger's help in order to slip past the others.

Out of Mithral Hall, he would flee back to Calimport or even further south. He could go to Lapaliiya, the nation directly east of Calimshan. Many of Calishite descent lived in Lapaliiya. He wouldn't be out of place there. Once there, he could begin a new profession. He wasn't yet old. He could become a warrior instead of an assassin, or perhaps – he cut his speculation short. _First, I have to get out of here_, he reminded himself. He eagerly finished the rest of his lunch and didn't bother giving the tray to one of the guards this time.

--------------------

"Do ye know what is the matter with him?" Catti-brie asked her friends and father over lunch. She picked at her food. "He looked worse than before. Has one of ye come to him, threatening him, or have ye had some disagreement? 'E looks terrible."

The Companions all looked at each other, but none of them said anything. She'd been talking about Artemis Entreri on and off for the past half hour. Drizzt looked almost painfully confused. Had his apology sent Entreri over the edge? Could the man not handle forgiveness? Regis avoided everybody's eyes and set his frown on his face firmly. He would not give up. It was for Catti-brie's own good. He knew scum like Entreri. Without threats, he would hurt Catti-brie and leave. She didn't deserve that. Bruenor only gave her a shrewd look and asked, "Why is me girl so worried about a ne'er do well like that?"

Catti-brie shrugged and unhappily poked her food with her fork. "Da…" She looked pained. "He ain't a ne'er do well."

Drizzt snorted incredulously. "Excuse me? Then tell me what he is, Catti-brie."

She met his gaze stubbornly, something that surprised him because he'd been expecting her to waffle about it like she had been ever since Entreri had helped them escape. "He's a man. An' he might be hurt. So ye better give 'im room and let 'im talk, Drizzt Do'Urden."

The elven ranger just gave her a confused smile. "What makes you think he'll talk to you? About anything?"

Catti-brie snorted. "Ye have eyes, Drizzt? He already has. That's why me head's so full 'o different things I can't think without hurtin' meself these days. E's not a cold blooded assassin, e's somethin' else, but I'll be eatin' me own boots before I figure out what." She sighed and tried to eat some of her roast potatoes. They were cold already.

Drizzt stared at her. What could Artemis Entreri possibly have said that could inspire this kind of reaction in his friend? Did he – No, it couldn't be – He – Did he actually – The elven ranger's head was filled with awful visions of the assassin declaring some sort of twisted sentimentality towards the auburn-haired woman. She had helped him escape, after all, and only an idiot or someone with brain damage wouldn't notice that Catti-brie was beautiful. Drizzt shook his head. _I hope it's not that. It can't be that._ Suddenly, he lost his own appetite for his food. He stopped, chewed more slowly, and forced himself to swallow his mouthful of ham. He felt ill. _This can't be happening_.

But for some sick reason, he was sure that it was. It was too much of a nightmare not to be true. If it was anything he'd learned from Menzoberranzan, it was that his life was a nightmare just waiting to happen.

His self-reflections brought himself to an epiphany he wasn't ready to have. He didn't know if he could deal with it. Drizzt put his head in his hands, dropping his fork. "Headache," he mumbled, and excused himself from the table. He slipped back to his room as quickly as possible, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed. Only after he shut and locked his door did he even allow himself to think it. _I'm in love with Catti-brie_. The pain in his chest was terrible. It was amazing how agonized he could feel while still being sure that nothing inside of him was broken.

_I'm going to die. There's no other way. I have to leave_. Thoughts pounded at the inside of his head, just as if the illithid were trying to read his mind again. Tears seeped out through his fingers, and he realized that his head was in his hands again. He'd never felt more frightened and alone in his life.

It didn't even occur to him that he could have Catti-brie. She didn't love him that way. He knew it. If she had, she would have wanted to marry him instead of Wulfgar. She had free choice, and she was going to marry Wulfgar.

And now Wulfgar was gone, and she was lonely, and he was a mess, and where did Artemis Entreri fit into this? Drizzt felt frustrated, suddenly, not to know. It maddened him. _Why does he have to be here? Why didn't he just leave?_ He instantly demanded, but then he stopped, and sighed. _I've been through this before. I know the answers. He didn't leave because he couldn't, and Catti-brie saved him because she's Catti-brie. She wouldn't be herself if she didn't._ A small smile on his face that quickly disappeared. _That's one of the reasons I love her. She can still help people without suspicion._

It was a shocking, jolting feeling to realize that he couldn't. Not anymore. Something had been stolen from him when he was captured back in Menzoberranzan. A part of his innocence. He didn't have the unfettered naivete anymore to go around helping people. He didn't care. So many people, the whole world, it had seemed, hadn't cared whether or not he had been suffering. Even after he had found a faith, a beautiful way of thinking and living that made so much sense to him…Even it had betrayed him.

For the first time, he realized that he hadn't prayed to Mielikki since returning home. She let him down. He thought – no, he was sure, he was so sure - she had been different. Gentle. Not like Lloth. She didn't abandon her followers. _But what about me? Is it because I am Drow? Is it because I willingly left the light of her world?_ _Was grieving and giving one's life for one's friends an unnatural sacrifice?_ Did she not _care_? Tears washing down his cheeks again, he clasped the pendant in one hand and silently demanded, an accusation instead of a prayer, _How could you do this to me?_

----------------

Drizzt crept furtively to the room where they were holding Artemis Entreri. He avoided everyone by taking the long ways around whenever he saw someone else in the halls. Mithral Hall was a series of convoluted, criss-crossing hallways through solid stone anyway, and he used it to his advantage. He told himself over and over again what he wanted to say to the beat of his own overly-casual footfalls, which he made sound out just in case someone thought he was sneaking somewhere. He didn't want to look suspicious.

_I'm just going to tell him to stay away from Catti-brie_, he repeated to himself, but eventually, that plan dissolved, and he found himself giving in to thoughts of the startling communion between himself and Mielikki in his room. Drizzt curled his hands into fists at his sides in helpless frustration, and wondered how she knew that he was going to listen to her after he had just blamed her for his suffering in the Underdark. Especially after the conversation with Regis where things had seemed to make so much such. How could he once again lay blame at the doorstep of someone other than his torturers? What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't it go away?

He was so deep in his thoughts that he was startled to look up and find that he was there, standing in front of the door. Two brothers, Radd Stonelifter and Ike Stonelifter, guarded the doorway currently. Their beards were cut in the same exact style, and were both the same shade of red. Drizzt nodded politely to them, and then commenced to knock on the door.

"Come in," came the defeated-sounding voice of the assassin within. The man sounded as if he'd had a tiring day. The ranger recalled what Catti-brie had said over lunch.

With a jolt, Drizzt realized that he must have missed dinner. It was late, now. How long had he been communing with the goddess? He could instinctively feel in his bones what time it was. It was late evening, possibly around nine…He frowned. No, definitely about nine o'clock. The elven ranger pushed the door open, came inside, and then shut it behind him. "I have to talk, Entreri."

The Calishite was sitting on his borrowed bed, one knee drawn up close to his chest, the other leg dangling over the edge of the bed. The assassin studied Drizzt for a moment, and then nodded. "I suppose you mean for me to listen." Artemis sighed.

"I don't expect you to like it," Drizzt said. He looked around for a chair, realized there was none, and then sat on the floor. "I'm not leaving until you listen." The dark elf waited for an answer, and when there was none, he said, lifting his head defiantly, "I'm in love with Catti-brie."

Artemis looked at him incredulously. _When will these lunatics make up their minds? _"You are," the assassin said. He searched those infuriatingly impassive lavender eyes for some sign of what he was supposed to say. 'Congratulations'? Or 'I'm sorry you're too late, I loved her first'? Or 'She loves me instead'?

"Yes. I am." Drizzt stared at him. Then the dark elf made a strange face, almost as though he simultaneously confused himself and dreaded the answer. "Why?" he said sharply. "Are you?"

Entreri stared at him for a moment, and then was jolted by sudden comprehension. "No!" The assassin froze, and then forcibly calmed himself down. "No. Never." He crossed his arms. "Why?"

"Nothing!" Drizzt averted his eyes. "I mean… Good. I mean… How are you?"

Artemis Entreri's lips quirked in a wry smile, by far the warmest expression he had ever aimed at the ranger. "Get me out of here."

-----------------

Drizzt soon returned with Artemis' weapons stowed under his cloak, as they'd agreed. The elven ranger held his sword out to him, hilt-first.

Artemis took the crosspiece of his sword with a nod, but then stopped and immediately tensed when the elven ranger did not relinquish his grip.

"I must offer you some advice," Drizzt said.

The assassin looked him in the eyes with an accusing glare, and then removed his hand with frustration. "What…do you have to say…to me?"

The dark elf also braced himself, as if he were being forced to do something that he didn't want to and something he knew would lead to more conflict. At the last moment, his chin firmed, and his lavender eyes flashed defiantly. "Only that you play into the hands of Malar." His voice shook with contained outrage.

Artemis merely raised an eyebrow, consuming his anger with a deadly calm. This reaction seemed to make the ranger taken aback. "If this is a warning," he said slowly, "it would help first to know who or what Malar is."

"Ch – Sh – Surely –" Drizzt Do'Urden choked. "You don't know of the shadow of the Beast Lord over this land? How can you walk these fields and forests if you are so ignorant and that you know not on whose ground you tread!" He was still spluttering in shock.

Artemis Entreri snorted and bit back an angry retort. "Save the lecture, ranger. I am not of these parts, and I had no intention of staying."

"In the northern forests, Malar holds sway," Drizzt said, his voice leaden. "He draws on the dark power of the hunt, draws people into blind bloodlust. He rejoices in conflict and contest over who is strong and who is weak." The dark elf's jaw clenched. "The way you have acted towards me, what you have _done_, has caught Malar's attention. He seeks to add _you_ to his followers."

The assassin slashed the air with a hand held flat. "I follow no god." He turned to go, fastening his cloak about his shoulders. "If that is your only concern, be assured that I will not 'play into the hands' of this mysterious beast deity." Artemis' lip was curled in disgust.

Drizzt stared at this unexpected reaction. "You have no distaste for causing discontent. You must rely on some god to back up your incessant trouble causing."

Artemis snorted. He merely pocketed his dice, still lying on the far side of the room, and straightened. "I have no desire to 'cause' trouble. Trouble already exists when I get there." Then he threw a cocky smirk over his shoulder, eyes dancing with false innocence. "For some reason, my presence exacerbates the problem. I have no apprehension why." He strode over and took his sword from the ranger's now limp hand, irreverently saluting Drizzt with it before sliding the blade into its sheath at his belt. "I'll be taking this, now." His fingers drummed impatiently on the golden hilt of his elegant vampiric dagger.

"Very well." Drizzt looked away, and nodded reluctantly. "I'll tell them you're leaving. They'll escort you out of the Hall, and then leave you. You can do whatever you want from there." He left, and came back after what Artemis was sure was a short time that just felt like an incredibly long one.

"Regardless of what you may think, this reunion was pure chance," Artemis said. He scowled. "I am not coming back this time."

The dark elf looked at him with hooded eyes. "I hope not."

Entreri uncomfortably nodded and turned on his heel, leaving.

It was only after the Calishite blithely walked free that Drizzt realized Artemis had avoided his question. The assassin had never confirmed that he didn't pay lip service to any of the gods. "Blast it!" The dark elf turned around sharply on his heel and grasped his scimitars tightly, briefly considering the consequences of going after the man. But he couldn't imagine any other outcome than a colossal fight, the very same thing that Mielikki had warned him never to engage in again with that individual.

She had also reprimanded him for his foolhardiness with the assassin, warned him of his own temper, and gently commanded that he try to sway Artemis to the teachings of the Lady of the Forest before Malar corrupted Artemis' heart.

"Corrupted his heart?" Drizzt protested. "He doesn't have a heart to corrupt! He kills people for a living!"

Her unspoken rebuke fell on him heavily in the form of alien emotions washing over him, and his tongue became still with ashamed mortification. _It is your duty_, she told him with a smile in her commune, _to soothe his heart. It is true that he appears a savage beast, but it is the wounded animal that bares its teeth and attacks, Drizzt Do'Urden. You have been taught, but you must continue to learn, and see. Go to it, rang_er. The silent inflection was 'my ranger', and his heart beat faster as his face flushed. _It is not only your duty to protect. It is your duty to teach._ Then her presence fluttered away, lifting from him as though she was nothing more than the wind.

When he had shouted out his silent accusations at her, he foolishly, in his anger, had never expected her to answer. He had expected her to stay silent to his attacks on her, to be removed and deaf as he was thought she'd been when he was imprisoned and tortured.

Instead, she had responded immediately, with a strength that forced him backwards and had him stumbling to the floor on his rear end, as she explained every last reason why she had been unable to help him, and how Drizzt should have taken Catti-brie as a sign because of the girl's blessed resemblance to the Forest Queen herself. He was weeping with embarrassment, his face burning, long before she had finished with him, and only after she assured him that she would give him a chance to prove his loyalty did he stop prostrating in some pathetically Drow attempt to show her how sorry he was.

She had told him of this mission to heal the assassin's heart, and to coax the man to participate in a mission of Mielikki's so that he could see for himself how well her followers were treated.

Drizzt pushed a frown from one corner of his mouth to the other, trembled with restless anticipation and foreboding, and then slumped, resigning himself to the fact that Entreri was gone, for now. If redeeming the assassin was really Entreri's fate, and his own role, then the elf ranger would have to wait for Artemis to come back to him.

--------------

"I want to take a walk with you," Drizzt said.

"Alright," Catti-brie said.

They put on their cloaks, and grabbed some rations from their supply, just about enough for a meal or two, in case they accidentally got stuck out in weather. They filled their canteens and brought their weapons along, and told Bruenor where they were going.

The snow was crisp, and Catti-brie seemed to take enjoyment from making Drizzt display his elven talents by walking so lightly that he hardly sank into the snow, while she sank down until the snow reached most of the way up her knee-high boots. She laughed, and talked about inconsequential things, and Drizzt was glad of her company, for it lightened his mood considerably.

He thought it unfortunate that he was still too distracted by what Mielikki had said, even a day later, to concentrate on the first time he had alone with Catti-brie since their return from Menzoberranzan. Last night, he had let Artemis Entreri go, and this morning, he had intercepted her before she could find out what he had done. That was part of his dangerous, spur-of-the-moment planning to tell her his side of things before she verbally cut off his head.

"Call Guenhwyvar!" Catti-brie said. "I'm suren she would love to play in the snow with us!"

The dark elf ranger smiled weakly at her and said, "I'm afraid I can't. She's still tired from last night. I…couldn't sleep and needed the company." Which was true. He had stayed up all night, with his arms around the panther, asking Guen if what he did was right. She'd purred at him and groomed him like a panther cub, something she used to do when he was still crying about Zaknafein dying, and he'd fallen asleep finally convinced that she would love him, even if he was the biggest mess-up in the entire universe.

To his wonder, Drizzt found a little cave like the ones he used to love to crawl through when he was younger. He felt a pang in his chest at the reminder of his love of the Surface, and his excited exploration of this new land. "Catti-brie, look." He pointed.

She laughed and hugged him delightedly. "It be just like one of yer old hiding-places!" She instantly shared his thoughts. "Oh, Drizzt, let's go in." She tugged at his hand. "It be just like old times."

The dark elf blushed slightly and felt the tiny snowflakes falling around them melting on his cheeks somewhat faster than normal. He mumbled an agreement, and then added, "But we have to make sure it is uninhabited first." He poked around sufficiently to tell that it was, indeed, just an abandoned cave about the size of a room. He helped her inside, and they both had to duck in order to fit. They ended up sitting comfortably on the ground near each other, watching the snow lazily falling. For a moment, neither one of them spoke.

"I had been so close to running," Drizzt said. His knees were drawn up to his chin, and he was curled into a ball, back resting against the rough stone of the cave. His violet eyes were shining, it seemed with imminent tears. "And then I…and then I asked Mielikki for help…" His lower lip trembled. _Yeah, I asked her for help alright._ He'd yelled at her and blamed her for everything, is what he'd done. He was surprised that she had taken him back after that bratty, childish behavior.

"She said that I should tell you…" Tears began running down his cheeks. He burst out, "I can't stop thinking about you! I can't live without you! I can't stop thinking about you and Wulfgar and how if it wasn't for me, he never would have died! I got everyone in trouble! I should just have kept running once I left the Underdark, I should have run all the way to the Great Glacier, or to The Endless Wastes at the end of the world, and I should have stayed there! Or drowned myself in The Shining Sea." His voice was bitter. "I shouldn't have gotten you in trouble."

Catti-brie looked at him, stricken, and then hugged him as tightly to her as she could, as if trying to shelter him from himself. _Why does everything have to fall apart?_ "It weren't your fault!" She shuddered in horror at the thought of anyone hurting him. She'd tried to push the image of him suffering while those Drow bitches hurt him out of her head, but now it was back, with more clarity than ever. Her imagination filled it all in with sickening detail. "It was never yer fault!" She kissed him on the cheek and drew her cloak around him. He was shivering.

Drizzt yelled, "I let Artemis Entreri go! I let him go! It's my fault!" almost as if he were trying to keep her from getting too close to him, now.

"I don't care," Catti-brie said flatly. _Oh, Drizzt, how could you?_ _Ye knew he wasn't well, I told you a thousand times he had changed, he wasn't thinking straight, he needed our help…Now he's going to go an' try an' act like nothin' happened, ignoring his heart like he's been doin' since he was little. How could ye do that to him? He needed ye. _"I ain't going to hate you for doin' something you couldn't help doing. He was yer rival. Ye didn't care about 'im." That reassurance was unintentionally double-edged.

"I couldn't help it," Drizzt protested. "He asked me to get his weapons, so he could leave. He told me that you were trying to get him to stay, that he didn't want to. If he doesn't want to, let him go back to Calimport. He's not used to the cold up here, anyway. He'll make a _fine_ living of being an assassin." _He didn't want to be converted. I gave him the chance. He denied my help._ "I can't change a man who wants to be the same cold-blooded bastard he's always been." Guilt gnawed at him. Was letting Artemis Entreri go really wrong?

"Yer hurt, and ye're not thinkin' clearly, or else ye'd be appalled at yerself, Drizzt Do'Urden," Catti-brie said firmly. "But right now, let's get you to a nice warm bed an' some blankets. Yer not well."

"I am fine," Drizzt protested, but he let Catti-brie carry him nonetheless, hugging his thin form to her chest with strong, muscular arms. He didn't think his position could get any worse. Despair closed around him like the blackness that had been haunting his entire life. Only this kind of blackness, he couldn't see through. Despair was impenetrable.


End file.
